Master Potter of Kamar-Taj
by Ryuko monogatari
Summary: How does the wizarding world react when it finds out that it is not the only wizarding world? A young Harry is taken to the home of Dr Stephen Strange, and is far more ready for the challenges he will be made to face
1. Prologue

How the hell did this happen to him? One minute he's fighting Kaecilius and saving the world from Dormammu, and the next he has a kid! Stephen Strange was not a kid person. He didn't treat them; their brains were in development and a needle in, say, the Locus coeruleus, could leave them in a permanent state of panic for the rest of their lives. He didn't like them; they were too loud and unruly. But now, there was a scruffy-haired British kid with broken glasses and clothes that were way too big for him silently sitting in the main room. Stephen rubbed his head and sipped his tea.

 **Flashback**

Kaecilius and Strange were Sling-Ringing across the world, the dark-dimension-powered magician running from the enraged sorcerer, throwing bolts of magic and moving random things into Strange's way. Cars, bins, plates, a cream pug with a black face which landed on his head and licked his cheek. Stephen put the little dog on the floor and used his sentient cape to fly over Kaecilius and land in front of him, lifting the debris around him to form a circle around the two. "Why do you insist on stopping me, Strange?" Kaecilius waved at the little town. "All these people are doomed to die. The power of the dark dimension will enable us all to cheat death-AARGH!" Kaecilius and Strange both grabbed their heads in agony.

"What is this?" Strange groaned.

"How can this be?" Kaecilius yelled, using his inner eye to peer into the astral plane. He saw waves of unbridled energy coming from the house to his right. In a cupboard under the stairs, a young boy, probably 7 or 8, was lying on a ripped mattress, nursing multiple bruises and weeping. With every sob, another wave of magic convulsed out of his body, apparently unbeknownst to the poor soul. Kaecilius felt a pang of pity, which was quickly stomped down by his rage. "It's a child!" he shouted, forming a ball of energy to destroy the source of his pain.

"No!" Stephen shouted, gritting his teeth and taking them into the mirror dimension, saving the house. The explosion hit Strange, knocking him out. Kaecilius sling-ringed out of the dimension, leaving the sorcerer supreme unconscious.

When Strange came to, he exited the mirror dimension to see the townspeople staring at him incredulously. He looked around at everyone, before his eyes locked onto a small boy in oversized clothes, bruises dotting his arms. Strange tapped into the power of the Eye of Agamotto, turning back time to remove all signs of his fight with Kaecilius. People quickly started walking backwards into their homes, cars and debris flew through the air, back into their places, and a pug leapt backwards through a window and panted happily. Once everything was back in place, Strange cancelled the spell and sling-ringed back to Khamar-Taj, lying on the floor and panting after the expenditure of his energy. The Ancient one peered over him, smirking. "I take it he got away?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Do, 'huff', do we have, 'huff', a spare room?"

"Yes, why?" she crossed her arms. Stephen laughed weakly.

"After all this is done, we're probably getting a visitor,"

 **Back to present**

"Petunia, could you get the door, dear?" the morbidly obese Vernon Dursley called over his shoulder to his physically opposite wife. "And get that freak out of the way," he smiled meanly. Petunia grabbed 8 year old Harry Potter by the ear and thrust him into his cupboard under the stairs.

"Absolute silence, boy. Do you hear me?" Harry nodded vigorously as the door slammed shut and the latch put on. Petunia opened the door with a fake smile on her face.

"Good afternoon ma'am, my name is Dr Stephen Strange. I'm here to discuss business with your husband. May I come in?" A man with a well-kept beard in a black pinstripe suit and a nice golden watch smiled at her with a hand outstretched.

Petunia almost choked. This man had to have been rich! She shook his hand and nodded. "Yes, of course. Please, come in!"

Strange looked around at the meagre house, unused to normalcy for most of his life, but still feeling a little unwell in the Surrey house, as if something was pushing against his soul. "A lovely house you've got here, Mrs Dursley," he remarked politely as he was sat in the kitchen and handed a cup of tea.

Petunia beamed. "Thank you, though I'm sure it's nothing compared to yours, doctor,"

Stephen laughed lightly. "You'd be surprised,"

Petunia laughed melodramatically. "Ah hah hah hah! You're too funny, doctor! I'll just go and get Vernon for you," she walked into the living room and whispered into Vernon's ear. "Vernon, there's an American doctor in the kitchen who wants to talk business,"

Vernon Dursley never moved faster in his life. He shot up from his chair, wiped all the crumbs off his sweatshirt, patted his hair down into a formal style and wiped his greasy hands on a nearby cloth. "Petunia, we just may be rich," he stepped into the kitchen, and the well-dressed man stood up and held out his hand.

"Good afternoon, Mr Dursley. I'm so sorry to bother you on a Saturday , but this is a matter of urgency,"

Vernon shook the man's hand and chuckled. "Oh, no bother at all, my good man. What can Grunnings Drill Manufacturing do for you?"

Strange laughed cunningly. "Nothing. Apologies, but I'm here on personal business,"

Vernon's face dropped. "Really," he almost growled.

"Yes, I'm here concerning a young boy I saw around here the other day. Small, thin, black messy hair, round glasses. Any of this ring a bell?"

Petunia went pale, and Vernon went red. "I assure you, sir, I have no idea what you are talking abo-,"

"I'm a rich man, Mr Dursley," Stephen lied. "Do you know how much power rich men have?"

Vernon balled his fists. "Are you threatening me?"

Stephen stood up, easily towering over the portly man. "Oh, you'll know when I'm threatening you. Why don't you stop lying to me and bring me the boy?"

Petunia sighed and buried her head in her hands. "Fine, I'll get him," she spat the last word, as if it was a dirty topic. She went back to the cupboard under the stairs and grabbed Harry by the shoulder. "Look presentable, we have a guest who wants to see you, freak," she whispered aggressively into his ear. She plastered on a nervous smile and lightly pushed Harry into the kitchen. "This is Harry Potter, our nephew," Stephen's eyes widened at the sight of this poor boy. He was in the same clothes as when he last saw him, and they didn't look at all washed. Bruises littered his arm, and the sorcerer had no idea if they came from this loud-mouthed family or bullying that they chose to ignore. His hair looked greasy and unkempt, as if it hadn't been washed in years. The boy was thin, almost anorexic, with bags under his eyes the size of an apple and an age behind his deep green eyes that he shouldn't have.

He knelt at Harry's eye level and smiled. "Hey there, Harry. My name's Dr Stephen Strange. I'd like to talk with you if that's OK,"

Harry looked at his shoes. "I'm very sorry, sir,"

Strange raised an eyebrow. "Sorry for what?"

"People only come to see me if I've done something wrong, to punish me. Whatever I've done, I'm sorry and I'd be happy to fix it for you," Harry meekly explained.

Stephen turned on the Dursleys and had to use all of his self-control not to banish them on the spot. "Did you do this to him?" no reply. "This is disgusting. You do know that this is a human being, right?"

"He is a freak!" Petunia screeched. "He deserves everything coming to him,"

"Nobody deserves anything like this!" Strange retorted, rage filling his voice.

Vernon turned redder than a stop sign on a fire truck flying the Chinese flag. How dare you come into my house, yell at my wife, threaten me, and question our parenting skills! I have half a mind to call the police on you right now!"

Strange growled, then his face went neutral. "OK, go ahead,"

Vernon smirked. "I will. Right now," he picked up the phone and dialled the first 9.

"And while you're at it, you can confess to the child abuse and neglect you have put this child through," Strange crossed his arms and leaned on a door. All colour drained from Vernon's face.

He put the phone down and turned around. "What do you want?"

The sorcerer supreme smiled. He'd won. "I want to do everybody a favour. You clearly don't like the kid, he's clearly unhappy here. I'm willing to take him off your hands,"

Petunia Dursley's face went dark. "You're one of them, aren't you? A freak, just like him!"

Stephen shook his head and chuckled. "I assure you ma'am, the only freakish thing about me is my hands," he held his hands up to show the scarring from his car crash. "Now, do you accept my offer or not?"

Vernon and Petunia turned their back on him and Harry, and Strange caught a few frantically whispered words, like 'freak', 'wards', and 'waste'. He frowned, but looked down at the frail little thing stood next to him, who was looking up at him incredulously. "Are you really going to take me away?" he whispered.

Strange ruffled the boy's already messy hair, and knelt down to his level. "Well that all depends on what you want," Harry looked shocked. "If you want to stay here with your aunt and uncle, I won't stop you, but if you want to come with me, I promise you won't be treated like this ever again,"

Vernon coughed into his hand and Strange got back up, scowling into Vernon's scowl. "We have decided that you should take the boy,"

Harry's eyes widened and looked up at the bearded sorcerer. Stephen smiled. "Thank you for making the right decision. Harry, if you want to come with me, go pack your things, we'll leave in a couple of minutes," he felt something wrap around his waist, and looked down to see Harry hugging him tightly, before running to his cupboard and grabbing what little things he owned, stuffing them into an old backpack.

Vernon and Petunia looked at each other, and the long-necked woman nodded at her husband. "You should know," the fat man began, "that boy isn't normal. He does things tha-,"

"Things that can't be explained?" Strange finished, chuckling. "I know. That's how I find him. See I'm from a school in Tibet where we teach people how to wield and control powers beyond that of physical prowess. Harry has a lot of Power in him, and I want to show him how to control it so that nobody gets hurt," their eyes widened. "Don't worry, with any luck you'll never see me or him again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to be getting back. You ready, Harry?"

"Yes sir," a small voice called, and Strange smiled at the terrified couple.

"Alright then. Goodbye, sir, ma'am," and with that, Stephen Strange put on his sling ring, formed a golden circle of magic, took Harry's hand and walked through, leaving a terrified Vernon and Petunia Dursley quivering in their boots.

Harry almost fainted when he walked through the orange arch, appearing in a Tibetan monastery, surrounded by three people in what looked like pyjamas with a belt. A bald Asian man looked at the sorcerer supreme. "When you said you would be bringing a visitor, I was expecting your friend Miss Palmer,"

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Come on, Wong, there's a kid here,"

"I did notice," Wong replied, deadpan. "You know we cannot train children, Strange. They are still developing, it could harm them,"

"He's not here to train," Stephen replied as if it were obvious. "He-," he looked down at Harry and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He has a natural power, like our magic. I brought him here so he won't be able to hurt anyone," Wong didn't miss the glint in his companion's eye, he just chose to ignore it for his sanity's sake. He looked down at the little boy who had shrunk behind Strange's leg slightly. He felt a pang of pity for the poor soul.

"We will talk about this later. For now, you had best take him to his room," Strange nodded and walked away, little Harry in tow. "And change out of that suit!" he called after the former doctor, who waved his hand, his suit disappearing and revealing a blue Gi, similar to the clothes the others were wearing.

Harry's eyes widened in amazement. "Um, sir?" he meekly asked. Strange smiled down at him kindly. "Sorry, but what is this place?" he shrunk back the moment he asked, expecting to be punished.

Strange chuckled. "Right, sorry, I never explained it to you. This is Khamar-Taj, a monastery where we practice the mystic arts," he opened a door to reveal a spacious room with a double bed, a bathroom, a desk with a light, and a wardrobe. "This is your room. It's not much but it's a damn sight better than what you had before, so… yeah," he didn't think it would be enough for the boy, but Harry's eyes widened and he smiled wider than he had ever smiled before.

"All this… is mine?" Strange nodded, and Harry sat on the bed and pushed his hands into the soft mattress. "Why did you bring me here?" he asked, looking around his new room with wonder.

"You have an incredible power within you. The problem is, you don't know how to use it, so you'll get outbursts. Has anything weird ever happened to you, when you were angry or scared?" Harry nodded slowly. "We think that that's your power forcing its way out. I think that with some meditation and being in a safe environment, you'll have fewer outbursts, if any," Stephen noted the confused expression leaving the boy's face. "Any more questions?"

"Um, yes sir. What will I do about school?"

Strange stopped in his tracks. "You want to go to school?"

Harry shrugged. "I like to know things,"

Strange smirked. "I like you. As for tutoring, I'm a doctor and a genius. I can teach you whatever you need to know until then,"

"What about my, uh, power?" he blushed a little about referring to it without being called a freak straight after. "Will you teach me how to use it?"

Stephen sighed. "What we do is dangerous. I'm going to talk to other masters later to see if you are ready to learn, but it's not likely. Sorry, kid," he expected the kid to be sad or something, but Harry just smiled.

"Okay. Thank you for all of this, sir,"

Strange felt a tug on his heartstrings as the boy he saved from those… people… smiled up at him. "It's no problem. I'll leave you to get used to your new room," Strange left the young boy sitting on his bed. Harry lay back on the bed that was bigger than his whole room. He was in a whole new place, surrounded by whole new people who didn't seem to like him. It was weird, and a little scary, but something about the man who had saved him put his mind at ease. He sighed, and closed his eyes, and for the first time in 8 years, he slept without nightmares

 **Now, I know where I want this to go, but I'm not sure if I want to take it there until I've completed my other fics, so I'm going to put a poll on to see what you guys think. I'm more than happy to answer any questions you may have, whether they are about my fics or just me, just hit me up with a PM and I'll see if I can get back to you! Please R &R, and I'll see you next time!**


	2. New Magic: 1

Harry awoke the following morning without the feeling of dust in his eyes, or yelling straight into his ears. He wondered if the Dursleys were still asleep, or he'd slept in. Then, he remembered. He wasn't in the cupboard under the stairs, he was in a martial arts dojo. He wasn't with the Dursleys anymore, he was in his own room, given to him for no reason he could think of. Harry slowly swung himself off the large bed, placing his feet on the floor tentatively, then slowly walking around the room, taking everything in. Harry heard a knock on the door and leapt back into his bed, jumping ridiculously high and causing a grunt from outside. "C-come in," he whimpered, and Stephen opened the door, smiling while slightly wincing.

"Morning, Harry,"

"Good morning, sir,"

Stephen laughed. "Please, don't call me sir, call me Stephen," magic doctor rubbed the back of his head at the awkward silence. "Well, uh, I just thought I'd come tell you that breakfast is in the main hall downstairs. You can't miss it, it's the room with the huge fountain in the middle,"

"Thank you, si-I mean, Stephen," harry shrunk under his covers slightly, and Stephen shrugged.

"Eh, baby steps," he muttered under his breath. "Anyways, to work the shower turn the right handle down, and the left handle up for cold water or down for hot. There'll be a basic uniform in the closet for you, which'll fit no matter what, and uh, we'll talk later,"

"Th-thank you," Harry nodded and Stephen just smiled and closed the door, sling-ringing to the library to have a long talk with Wong.

 **Later…**

Harry was exploring the compound, shying away from any people he came across, apparently well enough that nobody took a second glance at him. He walked past the library doors, and heard shouting from the centre of the darkened room. He stuck to the wall and snuck in, slowly hearing more and more of the conversation.

"- why we cannot teach a child our ways, Strange! It could rip his soul from his body!"

"He has an incredible power tha-,"

"That what? That you want to be able to use? This is a child, Strange, a child!"

"He has a power that he can't utilise, and when he loses control it makes waves. Surely you felt it this morning! That felt the same as it did in the mirror dimension," a pause.

"Even with the amplified power?"

"Exactly. I'm not asking to turn him into a weapon, Wong, I just want to show him some measure of control so that he doesn't one day inadvertently kill someone!" Strange and Wong were so caught up in their argument that they didn't see Harry walk up to them, and gasp when Strange mentioned the possibility.

"I could kill someone?" he breathed, and Stephen's head jerked to the side, eyes wide.

"Harry, don't worry, it's gonna be OK," Stephen put his hand on the kid's shoulder and Harry started to cry. "Look, we're gonna help you get control of this, so no-one gets hurt, alright? But we can't teach you yet, you're too young, and if something goes wrong…"

"My soul leaves my body?" Harry sniffed, and Strange sucked in, then nodded. "I don't want anyone to die!" he wailed, and Strange patted his back.

"I know, I know. It's gonna be alright, Harry," Harry wrapped his arms around Stephen's neck and hugged him tight, the sorcerer supreme returning the hug. "Now, I need you to go back to your room for a sec, and I'll sort you out with some books, OK?" Harry nodded and Stephen opened a portal to his room, which Harry walked through, still pretty amazed by the concept.

Wong crossed his arms once the portal closed. "So, since you're not going to be training him, what books will you be wanting?"

Stephen shot Wong a mock glare. "Third grade Math, English and Science,"

Harry was sitting in his room, playing with a loose thread on his old shirt when he heard a knock on the door again. "Come in," he called, and Stephen opened the door, carrying 3 thick books and a ream of paper.

"Hey, kid. You doing OK?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm scared. I don't want to hurt anyone,"

"I know, I know, but you're not gonna hurt anyone while you're here, I promise," Harry sobbed once, Strange sighed and patted the boy's back. "Hey, I've got you some textbooks from the library," Harry looked up, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and smiled. "It's just the basics, Science, Math, English, but it'll be a start," Harry nodded and smiled again. "So I want you to take notes on the first chapter in each of them by tomorrow, alright?"

"Yes, Stephen. I'll do it,"

Stephen smiled and stood up. "Great. See you later then, Harry," Strange left the room and walked back to his office. He opened the door to see a bulky blond-haired man with a ponytail and a beard, subconsciously flipping a hammer in his hand, as a man wearing green and golden robes in manacles and a mouth gag. "Ah, Thor," he said, sitting in the chair at his desk, his cape flying to a nearby coatrack. "I'm glad you came,"

Strange beckoned for Thor to sit, and the Avenger placed his Mjolnir on the floor with a clang, Loki's eyes rolling. "So there are wizards on Earth now, as well?"

Strange smirked as he lifted a kettle. "Would you like some tea?"

 **The next day, noon**

Harry looked over the notes he'd been making throughout his waking hours. He's finished the first chapter in all 3 books, so he went on to the second chapter. He didn't want Stephen to think he was a lazy, good-for-nothing freeloader. He winced at that particular memory as he knocked on the door to Strange's office. "Stephen?" he called meekly. No reply. He opened the door and crept in. "I've done the notes," again, no reply. "Stephen?" he asked again, a little louder this time.

"Dr Strange has gone," an Asian man who appeared from the shadows told him.

Harry yelped and dropped his notes. "I'm so sorry, sir. I shouldn't have come in here, it won't happen again, I promise,"

The man seemed unfazed. "Dr Strange has been called away on an urgent mission. As such, I am the master of this sanctum until he returns," he peered down on Harry, who shrunk into his Gi and shook. "So, you are the boy he took in, hm?" Harry nodded. "I am Master Hamir. And you are?" he held out his hand expectantly.

Harry had seen Uncle Vernon do this with businessmen who made house calls. He shook the man's hand tentatively, then squeaked as he felt himself getting pulled up. "H-Harry Potter, sir,"

Hamir looked the boy up and down. "I will look over these notes you have made," he held out his hand again, and Harry gave him the paper. Hamir hummed as he read the notes. After about a minute he gave them back to Harry. "This is good. Well done. Tomorrow you will be given more work to do. Until then, you are free to roam the sanctum,"

Harry shook a little, but nodded. "Th-thank you, sir," he left the room and breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been praised for something he'd done and not been punished for doing something wrong. He smiled as he walked back to his room, then jumped when dozens of people shouted at once. Then again. And again. Harry followed the shouting and reached the courtyard. He saw about 50 people lined up in ranks, all performing some sort of dance or ritual. They turned with their hands extended in front of them, golden sparks coursing through their fingers and making discs of light appear around their fists. Harry sat in the shadows, awestruck by what he saw. He quickly pulled out his pen and paper and began taking notes on what they were doing and how they were doing it.

"Concentrate. Feel the flow of energy through you, like a river. You don't try and move it, you move with it. Then you will be granted the power you need," Harry wrote down every word, his awful handwriting barely legible as he was writing so quickly. He smiled as he picked up his paper and admired his handiwork.

The next few weeks fell into a routine. Harry would either give his work in or get new work from Master Hamir, then walk around the complex, before stopping to take notes on that particular lesson. He'd stop in the cafeteria and silently pick up a bowl of soup or a sandwich to take back to his room, where he'd either do his work or meditate. Harry wasn't trying to become some sort of wizard, that was just ridiculous, he'd tell himself. Harry Potter as a wizard? What'll they come up with next? Harry was slowly learning to understand the feel of this 'power' Stephen told him about, so he may be able to stop himself the next time he had an outburst. He managed to find his power quicker each time, until it was almost instant, and he spent the rest of the time exploring his energy, manipulating it to go into one hand then the other. Sometimes he went into his mind, explored his memories, looked at how his life had changed from just a couple of months ago to now, and often looked as far back as he could remember, which was, surprisingly, a pretty long way. He could remember voices. One was of an old man, who sounded on his last legs. One was gruff and deep, and one was supposedly a stern Scottish woman. He couldn't remember what they said, just, that they said it. Sometimes he got flashes of something terrible. Hearing a door be blown off its hinges. A man who must have been in his early twenties shouting for another person to run. A green flash and the thump of a body hitting the floor. A woman begging with someone in a black hood to kill her instead. Another green flash, and the woman fell to the ground. The hooded man walked up to him, pointed a… stick… at him, and a green light formed as the man yelled. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry's eyes show open. He was dripping with sweat, his scar ached, and he was completely exhausted. He crawled back into bed and closed his eyes, waiting for the next day in his life.

 **A couple of months later…**

A golden spark landed on Harry's shoulder as he walked through the courtyard. He took a step back as a sling ring portal was formed, and a tall black man walked through, and instantly formed a ball of energy, which he threw at the floor, blowing up the courtyard. Harry yelled and leapt into the air, his knees slightly buckling as his feet made harsh contact with the slate on the roof. On the… roof. Master Hamir strode into the square and stared the newcomer down. "Mordo, you should not have come here,"

The man, Mordo, scoffed. "Why is that Hamir? This place is nothing to me anymore, merely where the undeserving come to be given more power than they should. There is one way to stop this from happening, to ensure only the worthy may wield this gift,"

Hamir shook his head and brought his arms out into a stance, revealing to Harry for the first time that he was missing a hand! Hamir formed some sort of transparent spear and ran at Mordo, who leapt into the air, his boots making platforms for him to jump even higher. He took a staff off his back and whipped it at Hamir, it flew at his face, extending, magic dotting the weapon. Hamir blocked with his spear and kicked Mordo in the chest as he dropped to the floor, and threw the spear to follow him Mordo whipped his staff and smashed the spear mid-air. Hamir quickly made discs on his wrists as Mordo charged again, raising his staff above his head. He brought it down with enough force to break through the side of a house, swinging with ferocity and rage that put Uncle Vernon to shame. Hamir could only block, the speed and power of Mordo's attacks overpowering him until his discs faded away. Mordo struck Hamir one last time in the face, making the old man yell in agony. Blood ran down his face from his eye, around which a huge bruise was forming.

"I'm sorry, Hamir," Mordo said, and it sounded sincere. "But this gift is too valuable to be taught to just anyone. Therefore, the teachers must be removed," he made another ball of energy and thrust it into the floor.

"HAMIR!" Harry yelled, jumping off the roof and landing in front of Hamir, arms outstretched, focusing on his power and directing it to his hands. He moved his left hand up and his right hand down, diagonally, a gold line trailing behind. He then moved his hands in a pattern that created an intricate wall of energy. The explosion crashed against the wall, and held fast. Harry grunted at the strain of sorcery for the first time. The explosion ceased, and Harry let go of the energy, his vision blurring as he fell to his knees, his legs on fire. Before he collapsed he managed to make out the blurred form of Stephen running through a portal and standing between him and Mordo.

Harry woke in his room, with Stephen sitting at his desk, looking through his pages. "Good, you're awake," he didn't look around at him.

Harry grunted and sat up. "What happened?"

Strange sighed "You saved Master Hamir's life then passed out," he turned and looked Harry in the eye. "That shield was crude, but incredibly effective for someone your age. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed," Stephen smirked, then frowned straight after. "But you could have killed yourself! Why did you jump off the roof?"

Harry flinched. "I don't know how I got on the roof!"

Strange raised an eyebrow but let it slide. "Well you've broken both your ankles and you have a hairline fracture in your left shin. I've fixed you up the best I could, but I'm a neurosurgeon, so it's not exactly my forte," Strange got up. "Until you're fully healed, you won't be able to walk," he dropped a half-dozen books from the sanctum library onto his bed. "So you'll want to hit the books," Harry's eyes widened. "The other Masters and I have decided that, since you're so hell-bent on learning anyway, there's no point in trying to stop you,"

"Thank you, Stephen," Harry smiled widely and shifted into a sitting position.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Stephen exited the room.

"Stephen?" Harry called.

"Yeah?" Stephen replied, turning his head back round the doorframe.

"What's Avada Kedavra?"

Stephen frowned. "I don't know. Why?"

"Sometimes I meditate, to find the power you said I have, and I hear someone shout it, then there's a green flash," Harry frowned, as did Strange.

"Tell you what; I'll do a little reading and see if I can find anything, alright?" Harry nodded. "OK, see you later," Strange closed the door and folded his arms. "'Avada Kedavra'. Where have I heard that before?"

 **And the chapter is done! First off, I really want to thank you for the incredible support you've been showing me and my writing. Y'all are amazing, and the love and support you give me really pushes me along. I really appreciate reviews and am more than happy as ever to answer any questions you may have over a PM. Suggestions, questions or just conversations, hit me up, all are welcome! See you next time!**


	3. New Magic: 2

'Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra, where is it?" Stephen looked in every single book in all the remaining sanctums. Books all over the floor, being returned to their shelves by an angry Wong.

"What are you looking for?" he asked the frantic sorcerer as he caught a book headed for his face.

"The kid said something that was familiar. Avada Kedavra. I feel like I've read that somewhere but I can't remember…" he trailed off, flicking through another book with magic-enhanced reading speed, groaning and throwing it away.

"I'm sure your curiosity has blinded you to the fact that these books are one-of-a-kind and literally priceless," Wong said, deadpan.

Strange stopped. "Oh, shit," he quickly fixed the library up and sighed.

"Why do you care so much, Stephen?" Wong put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Strange rubbed his eyes. "I don't know, it's just, Harry saved Hamir's life. He nearly died protecting someone he barely knew. I just feel like I owe him,"

Wong nodded, then smiled. "Good. I was beginning to think you'd never be worthy,"

Strange sighed. "Jeez, even as the mighty Sorcerer Supreme there's still more I don't know about, isn't there?"

Wong nodded. "You're finally learning. This way," Wong led Stephen through the library until they came to the healing spell section. Wong waved his hand and the wall crumbled to dust, revealing another six shelves, cobwebs stretching across the secret room. There were books and scrolls packed into every nook and cranny.

Stephen reached for an old book and brushed the dust off the front. "Fantastic beasts and where to find them, by Newt Scamander?" he looked at Wong.

"Scriptures of a community who strictly follows the teachings of Merlin. I have read few of them, but I did read of this incantation," he took Strange to the far side of the bookcase, holding a dozen dusty old leather-bound books. "These cover all forms of what the authors call the 'dark arts'. You will find it in here," Stephen took the book and smiled.

"Thank you, Wong," He sling-ringed out of the library and to his private study, book under his arm, leaving a nettled Wong to clean up the fallen stone.

Harry awoke to the smell of bacon and fried eggs. His eyes widened, still slightly blurry. Aunt Petunia must've gotten tired of waiting for him to wake up, and cooked breakfast herself. Oh God, he was in so much… trouble. Oh yeah. He didn't live with them anymore. After all this time, it was still hard to wrap his mind around. He no longer slept in a cupboard under the stairs, he no longer was forced to do literally every chore around the house, and he was no longer punished for things not being perfect, or for no reason at all. He looked at the foot of his bed, legs still in casts, with a tray of breakfast balanced on his thighs. He smiled, but felt a stab of guilt. He hadn't done any work to deserve this. Still, the bacon smelled far too delicious to waste. He'd never actually eaten bacon before. He picked up his fork and tentatively took a piece off his plate. He took a bite, and his mouth exploded in euphoria. This was the most amazing thing he'd ever had! The texture was crispy, yet chewy. Salty, yet juicy. He was in heaven. He cleaned his plate, savouring every succulent bite of the strips of meat. He leaned back and smiled. That was good. Someone knocked on the door. Harry, still nervous, gulped. "Uh, come in,"

A young Asian man, he must have been around 23 years old, walked in. "Are you finished?" he asked, and Harry flinched at the bluntness. The man's eyes widened slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Master always said I was too abrasive," he picked up the tray with one hand. "I am Lao,"

Harry looked Lao up and down, testing the waters with a weak smile. "I-I'm Harry,"

Lao smiled back. "Yes, I know. Master Hamir has spoken of your saving his life. He is very grateful. As am I," at Harry's confused look, he chuckled. "Master Hamir was my tutor when I arrived here, and has assisted me in my further studies," Lao nodded in respect and exited the room, leaving Harry to think on this new information. Confused, he reached over to his pile of textbooks and began a geometry exercise.

Lao brought Harry his lunch that day, and his dinner, staying for longer each time. At lunch, Lao asked Harry about his studies. At dinner, he asked him about his time at the sanctum. Lao told him of his own experiences when training, and, with regret in his eyes, his life before Kamar-Taj. "My father was a fisherman. We had a peaceful life, yet father would often come home with enough food for just one of us. He would go hungry so I could eat. We were happy either way, until an army came through our village. 200 soldiers stealing our food and recruiting our children into their ranks. Father didn't let them take me. He sent me away, to this sanctum, to keep me safe," Lao grimaced. Harry seemed equally distressed. "What about you?" Lao changed the subject. "What was your life like before Dr Strange brought you here?"

It was Harry's turn to grimace. "I, I, it was just, normal," he stuttered, unable to talk about the hell he'd lived.

Lao nodded and picked up the tray of food once more. "Rest now, Harry,"

"Thanks, Lao," Harry smiled, and Lao nodded back.

Harry closed his eyes, and let himself drift into his subconscious, dreaming of tomorrow.

Harry awoke that morning to see Wong looking at him. He had one hand outstretched with a golden ring of energy surrounding it. He yelped and covered his face with his arms as protection. Wong's eyes glinted gold. ", 3 feet 9 inches, 3 stone 3, July 31st, 8 years old, Godric's Hollow, England,"

"Wha- wha-," Harry stuttered with wide eyes.

"I just needed to know your details for our books," Wong explained, turning and leaving.

Harry blinked, going over what he'd just heard. 'July 31st?' he thought. 'I have a birthday?' He spent the rest of his day of studying wondering what else his aunt and Uncle hadn't told him. Did his parents really die in a car crash? Were they really unemployed layabouts? Was he really a good-for-nothing freak? All of these thought put him into a better and better mood as the day went on. When Lao came with his lunch he was talkative and cheerful, inspiring odd looks from Lao, expecting the usual defensive and quiet nature of his young friend.

"You seem different," Lao remarked.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, smiling.

"Yesterday you were quiet and shy, but today you seem happier,"

Harry laughed. "I am happier!"

Lao rolled his eyes and smirked. "Well, I have duties to undertake. Rest, Harry," He closed the door once again. Harry sighed. He wished he could walk around again, use his legs. He looked down at the plaster surrounding his broken limbs and frowned. As sleep overcame him, he thought of what he now knew about himself, and wondered who he really was.

Harry awoke the next morning earlier than usual. He pulled his curtains open, letting in a stream of light, dazzling his still half-asleep eyes. As the sunlight invigorated him, he stopped. "How am I standing up?" he looked down, and yelped. He saw his legs, without their plaster, and his ankles looked completely healed. Wong walked by his room, looking through the opened door. He stopped and frowned, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Why have you removed your cast?" his eyes narrowed, and Harry was reminded of Uncle Vernon right before he exploded in rage.

"I, I didn't, sir," Harry mumbled. Wong looked perplexed. He furrowed his brow and cupped his chin.

"Explain,"

Harry gulped. "I just woke up and, and they were gone, sir. I'm sorry," He looked down and sniffled.

Wong looked as though he was thinking on something very important. "Wait here," he said, and walked off to find Stephen.

Harry sat on his bed and examined his now bare legs. "What happened?" he whispered to himself.

A moment later, a golden ring appeared, through which Stephen and Wong walked. Stephen looked sternly at Harry. "Did you banish them?"

Harry gulped again. "I promise, I don't know,"

Stephen frowned, scaring Harry a little. The Sorcerer Supreme walked to Harry, knelt down and prodded his ankles, looking for any sign of reaction. Harry didn't even flinch. "You can walk?" Harry nodded and stood up, proving his point. Stephen's brow furrowed, then he laughed. "Ha! This kid!" he exclaimed to no-one in particular. He turned to Wong and whispered in his ear. Wong's eyes widened, and he whispered something in Stephen's ear. This repeated about half a dozen times, with Harry just standing in front of the two men, awkwardly looking between them. Wong frowned, then shook his head,. Strange sat down next to Harry on the bed. "Harry, this is weird,"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir,"

Strange chuckled. "No, not bad weird, just weird weird, ya know?" Harry looked confused. Strange rolled his eyes. "Look, the point is, we're gonna start teaching you to control your magic,"

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?!" Stephen nodded and Harry wrapped his arms around the sorcerer. "Thank you, Stephen!"

Stephen looked incredibly embarrassed. "Uh, sure, no problem," he awkwardly patted Harry's back, then stood up abruptly as Wong cleared his throat.

"If we're going to be teaching you, you will refer to us as 'Master', understood?" Wong said sternly.

Harry stood up and nodded meekly. "Yes, master," he replied with a slight, awkward bow, earning him a slight smirk from Wong, who turned and left the room.

Strange looked at Harry with wide eyes. "How did you do that?"

Harry looked confused. "Do what?"

Strange smirked. "How did you make Wong smile? I've only ever done that, like, five times!" Stephen laughed, and Harry soon joined him. Once they'd calmed down, Stephen cleared his throat and handed Harry an ornate ring with three holes. "This is a Sling Ring. Master this, and it will take you anywhere you need to go," And so, Harry Potter's tutelage under Stephen Strange began.

 **That night**

Stephen was quickly skimming through the books, taking sips from his coffee when he came across what he was looking for. A whole page on what the author called Unforgivable curses. He skimmed over _Cruciatus_ & _Imperious_ , finding nothing of value, until he saw the words he was looking for; _Avada Kedavra; the killing curse._ Stephen read the passage, then dropped his coffee, smashing the mug. He closed the book and hid it away, with one thing on his mind: "Who are you, Harry?"

 **I know, this took forever, but I've spent the month celebrating. 2016's finally over! Goddamn last year sucked! And also A levels, but they don't really count. Anyways, sorry for making you wait. I now have a little problem. Would you like me to skip to Harry getting on the Hogwarts Express, and do flashbacks to Harry learning whatever tricks he uses, or should I go through his training now and go into the Hogwarts stuff later? I have my own opinion, but I'd love to hear what you think.**

 **Thankyou soo much to everyone who reviewed and to the whopping 260 followers and 170 favouriters! Holy Hell! This support is overwhelming, and it makes me so happy to know that people out there actually like what I'm doing. I'm more than happy to reply to reviews if I have time, and any PMs will likewise be replied to. See ya next time!**


	4. New Magic: 3

**Co-written by Z. R. Stein.**

"Again!"

Harry breathed deeply, pushing himself up off the ground, the bruises that he'd accumulated throughout the day ignored. He'd been training ( _officially_ , anyways) in the mystic arts for three weeks now, and a pattern had emerged.

His mornings began with meditation, during which he was supervised by Steph— _Master Strange,_ he reminded himself. Master Strange had insisted that Harry learn to access his Astral form as soon as possible; when Harry had asked him why the rush, the older man had simply smirked and cryptically replied "It helps with the late nights."

After meditating, he would go to breakfast, where Master Hamir would usually grade his schoolwork from the previous day and ask him how he was feeling. Neither of them had brought up Harry's selfless action to the other, but it was clear that Master Hamir wanted to repay Harry in whatever way he could.

Following breakfast, Harry engaged in the 'meat' of his day: physical training and sparring. When Harry had asked why he was learning how to fight with his fists instead of with his mind, Master Hamir had smiled and responded "Is the mind not also a part of the body? Magic does not spring forth without effort; by pushing the body to its limits, you discipline the mind." Harry, after a moment or two of thought, had agreed.

Taking a quick breath, Harry settled into his stance and struck, lashing out with an open palm at Master Hamir. The elderly man swayed out of the way, seemingly without effort, and stood a short distance away.

"Faster! Your opponents will not wait for you to strike."

Harry grunted and ran towards his opponent, snapping out a kick. In one fluid motion, Master Hamir extended his only hand and caught the incoming foot, twisting it in midair. Harry yelped as his center of balance was thrown off and he found himself smacking into the ground again.

Groaning, Harry slowly sat up, rubbing his head.

"That makes this the twenty _seventh_ time I've lost the sparring match, Master Hamir."

Master Hamir chuckled and said "I have been a Master at Kamar Taj for decades. You arrived not even two months ago. Do not despair, young one, you are still learning. Skill will come with experience. Come now, get up. Again!"

Harry puffed his cheeks out. Frankly, he was about ready to quit. His entire body burned, he was tired, and to top it all off, his ears were ringing from his date with the ground.

But as the man said, quitters never prospered. So with a pained grunt, Harry heaved himself off the ground, knowing deep in his heart that he was soon going to be reacquainted with it.

He was right.

 **A couple of months later...**

The grin on Harry's face stretched from cheek to cheek as he looked down at his transparent, faintly glowing hands.

"Wow. _Wicked…_ "

Next to him, Stephen smiled. Harry's skill in the mystic arts had progressed quickly, and with Wong's blessing, the boy was moving up to higher level magics. He had yet to obtain a relic, but he was already adept at using the Sling Ring (a fact that made Stephen's eye twitch a little whenever he thought about it. It was irritating that an eight year old mastered the Sling Ring in less time than he did, not to mention that Harry did so without needing to be dumped on top of Everest by the Ancient One).

"So, Harry, can you guess why I wanted you to learn how to access your Astral Form as soon as possible?"

Blinking, Harry looked up from his hands and adopted a thinking pose.

"Well...time moves slower in the Astral dimension if you want it to. So...maybe I can use this as a way to study more?"

Stephen chuckled.

"Well, aren't you a little genius. Yes, that is exactly why, though not _only_ because time can move slower in the Astral dimension. You also don't need sleep when in your Astral form. So, while your body rests…"

"My mind can still learn…" finished Harry softly.

"Got it in one, Harry."

Harry nodded, a slow, mischievous smile breaking out onto his face.

"Is this how you became Sorcerer Supreme so quickly?"

Stephen colored slightly, clearing his throat, and said "Well...yes...and I also may have...stolen books from the library using my Sling Ring..."

Harry's eyes widened, to the point that he looked like an owl.

"You stole books from _Wong's library_!?"

"Yeah...he was _not_ happy about it."

"I am still not happy about it, Strange."

Stephen and Harry yelped in tandem, both of them shooting up in the air a couple of feet. Behind them, Wong raised a single eyebrow at their actions as he floated in place, his Astral form as stoic as his physical one.

"I do hope that you will not follow in Master Strange's footsteps, Mister Potter. Libraries are to be respected, especially one as dangerous as mine."

Harry bowed quickly, his Astral form colouring in embarrassment. Clearing his throat, Stephen said "Is there something you needed, Wong?"

"One of our contacts has spotted Mordo in India."

Stephen nodded, his countenance becoming grim. He turned to Harry and said "Harry, I have to go. Keep practicing, alright?"

Harry nodded as well.

"I will...and good luck, Master Strange."

"Doctor."

Wong and Harry rolled their eyes in tandem.

 **Six months later…**

Harry wandered through the London Sanctum. Stephen had left on a mission more than a week ago and had yet to come back, and Master Hamir had been looking after him in the meantime. The two of them had grown very close since Harry arrived a year ago. The old monk was a veritable fount of knowledge and wise sayings, and he didn't mind helping Harry with any problem he might have.

It was partially because of Master Hamir that Harry was at the London Sanctum in the first place. With Master Hamir's help, Stephen's sometimes awkward guidance, and Wong's stern teaching, Harry had progressed to the point that the three Masters told him he was ready to receive a relic. And so, he was here, wandering around the upper levels of the Sanctum, waiting for something to happen.

Harry trailed his fingers along one of the display cases, looking inside to see an ancient tome entitled _The Book of the Vishanti._ Scattered around the room were other relics, ancient tomes, and various knick knacks. Set on a table was an old, tattered bag; looking at the plaque, Harry found it to be the _Six Demon Bag_ , a powerful source of elemental magic. The young sorcerer placed his hand hesitantly on the bag, then removed it after it failed to garner a reaction. That was the most infuriating part about relics; _they_ were the ones that chose their master, not the other way around. He'd already wandered around the Hong Kong Sanctum to no avail, and now it was looking like the London Sanctum would be a bust. If the New York Sanctum didn't work out either...well, Harry desperately hoped that that wouldn't be the case.

Moving on, Harry noticed a door behind one of the shelves that was partially open. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt that he needed to go through that door. Hesitantly, he maneuvered around the shelf of helmets and walked through the door. He found himself in an armoury of sorts, the walls lined with spears, staves, halberds, and axes. In the center of the room were three pedestals, on which three swords were standing. Harry looked them over, feeling drawn to them. One of these swords would be his relic, he just knew it.

The first sword (which the inscription at the base of the pedestal named _The Ebony Blade_ ) was made of a strange black metal that seemed almost purple in the light. Harry could feel it oozing malevolence and eldritch power, and he gave it a wide berth. Even if that sword would accept him, he wasn't sure he wanted something that was so obviously cursed as his relic.

The second sword, the _Seraphim_ according to the pedestal, glowed with radiant light, and the magic pouring off of it was almost suffocating to Harry's senses. Runes that Harry didn't understand ran down its length, and the guard was in the shape of a sunburst. While it didn't hold the same cursed feeling as the Ebony Blade, Harry didn't think that such a _noticeable_ relic was his style.

The last sword was the most unassuming of the three. At first glance, it seemed quite ordinary compared to the other two; the power it held was far more understated, almost like the sword was sleeping. Examining it, Harry found that it wasn't made out of any metal he knew; in fact, the sword seemed to have been created from the bone of some type of animal. The handle was bound with a dark crimson leather, and the guard pointed upwards like a pair of horns. Looking at the pedestal, Harry read the inscription aloud.

" _Dragonfang_." Harry said, the word echoing quietly around the room. He placed his hand on the handle and immediately felt a rush of power. He felt a sense of approval from the sword before it settled back into its slumber.

Eyes wide, Harry picked up the sword. He had found his relic.

A slow smile broke out onto Harry's face. He couldn't wait to rub Master Strange's face in this.

 **Two years later…**

Stepping out of a Sling Ring portal, Harry took in a deep breath of satisfaction.

He had grown slightly taller in the three years he'd lived at Kamar-Taj. A balanced diet and daily exercise had transformed his once frail, scrawny body into a leaner one, and days of training outdoors in the Nepalese sun had given him a healthy tan. Of course, there was still nothing on earth, magical or not, that could tame his bloody hair.

Harry wore a green tunic belted around the waist by a bright yellow sash, his feet fitted with fur lined boots. He had Dragonfang strapped across his back, the horned sword a constant, if mostly silent, companion in his life since it became his relic. Harry had found that, like all relics, the sword had a mind of its own, though unlike the more active relics (like Stephen's cloak), Dragonfang seldom chose to rouse itself. It woke up when it sensed Harry was in danger, or when he had a question, but for the most part, Dragonfang took long naps on Harry's back. Truly, Harry thought, Dragonfang was the stereotype of a sleeping dragon.

Still, Harry loved his relic. For one, it was _his_. The sword had chosen him, out of all the sorcerers who had come before. For another, the thing was bloody _wicked_ when it actually woke up and let him use its powers. It could cut through nearly anything, absorb any magical force that touched it, destroy mystical barriers, and even turn invisible.

It still brought a smirk to his face remembering when he'd showed his relic to Master Strange.

"Harry?"

Speaking of…

"Master Strange?"

"Doctor."

" _Master_."

Stephen suppressed the urge to argue with his eleven year old apprentice (again) about his title, and handed Harry a letter.

"This came for you yesterday. An owl, of all things, delivered it."

Harry raised an eyebrow. How odd was that?

Turning the letter over, Harry looked at the address.

"Harry Potter, Kamar-Taj, Room Twelve? That's...oddly specific."

Stephen nodded and responded "What's even stranger is that it's made out of parchment and has a wax seal. I mean...even sorcerers have printers."

Harry frowned and turned the letter back over to the other side, examining the seal for a moment.

"Do you think it's some sort of trap?"

"Wong and I already went over it. While there is a small amount of residual magic, it isn't harmful."

After a moment's consideration Harry took a deep breath and broke the seal. Pausing, and seeing that nothing happened, Harry removed the letter and began reading.

"What in the name of Chthon is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

 **Aand that's time! I want to give a massive thanks to Z.R. Stein for writing this chapter. I personally love it and I hope you guys do too. Welcome to team Ryuko, Z!**

 **We decided that at least one chapter of going over the basics of Kamar-Taj was important for the plot, because it shows that Harry is proficient enough in what he does to get by.**

 **What do you guys think of Dragonfang? Because I just want one. If anyone's seen the Ice Age movie with the dinosaurs, I'm picturing a more badass version of Buck's knife.**

 **Anyway guys, don't forget to hop over to Z.R. Stein's account and read his fics, they're just fantastic! See y'all next time, baiii!**


	5. New Magic: 4

**Thank you all for the amazing support on the last chapter! I get the feeling people like this story :)**

 **Let's continue…**

Minerva McGonagall was not easily surprised. Decades of teaching at Hogwarts and dealing with Peeves, and those 7 years with the 'Marauders' had made her more resilient to shocks. However, seeing that Harry Potter's return address on the owl they had received just a few hours before was not, number 4 Privet Drive, but, in fact, room 12 of some place called Kamar-Taj in the Far East managed to elicit a gasp. Minerva petted the owl as she opened the envelope. She read the typed letter with interest and worry.

 _To whom it may concern,_

 _Thank you for the letter of acceptance. I'm sorry to tell you, however, that I have no idea what Hogwarts is, or why I have been accepted. My guardian and I would greatly appreciate it if you could send a reply with various information about your school, and how I am to obtain the supplies you put on the list with the letter._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Harry Potter._

 _P.S. My guardian is wondering why the letter was handwritten on parchment, sealed with wax and sent by owl._

"Are you sure this is okay, master?" Harry looked up at Stephen, who was reading the letter he had just printed.

"Yeah, I think so," he scratched his chin, then folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. He was about to put a stamp on it when the owl that carried the original letter swooped in, grabbed the envelope with its beak and flew away. "O-kay, that's weird," Strange looked at where the owl was, then to his hand, then to the window. Harry chuckled. "Something funny?" Strange crossed his arms.

"N-nothing, Master," Harry covered his mouth and turned away.

"Sure," Stephen's eyes narrowed as he left the room. The door closed, and Harry burst into laughter. "This kid," he muttered, smirking as he sling-ringed to the library.

"Strange, there is a door for a reason," Wong scolded.

"Remember who pays for your MP3 player, Wong," the sorcerer supreme brushed off his remarks and walked to the wall concealing the hidden library. The wall folded in on itself and he entered the darkened room.

"Researching letter's sender?" Wong asked.

Strange nodded. "Yeah. I wanna know as much as possible,"

Wong walked up to the bookcase and pulled out a red leather-bound book, handing it to Stephen. "I also did some digging. It's interesting, to say the least,"

"Thanks, Wong," he smirked as he began forming a portal with his sling ring.

"Don't you dare," Wong started, but Stephen laughed and walked through the portal. Wong sighed, closing the wall on the hidden library. "How is that man the leader of this order?"

Strange reappeared in Harry's room to find him sleeping in his chair. Stephen picked Harry up and placed him in his bed, tucking him in and sighing. The kid had changed so much from the shy, beaten up little cupboard-rat he'd saved from those… people. He was now a strong-willed, intelligent young man who had earned the respect of everyone in the sanctum. Strange felt proud of him, and as he placed the book on his desk, he absentmindedly stroked Harry's head. Harry sighed and smiled in his sleep. Stephen smiled and left the room, turning out the lights as he went.

Harry woke the following morning to find an old looking book on his desk. He picked it up and read the cover. "' _Hogwarts: A History'?_ Where did Wong get this?" he flicked through the book. "The founders built the castle… Chamber underneath the school… Muggle technology doesn't work?" he re-read the section. "Don't tell me they use candles!" he muttered. He put a bookmark in the book and went to get his breakfast.

"Good morning, Harry," Hamir nodded at his young friend.

"Morning, Master Hamir," Harry smiled and sat by the one-handed master. "I have my homework for you," Harry opened a sling portal and picked a book up from his desk, handing it to Hamir.

"Ah, good. I'll look over these and get them back to you," Hamir put the book to one side. "So how have you been? I hear you've received some interesting news," Hamir raised an eyebrow.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, some school has accepted me to go there next year. Master Strange said there was some magic in the letter, so I've done some reading into it," Harry took a bite of his bacon. "It's a weird place. I mean, they have a spell on the roof of the great hall to look like the sky. And there's, I think the book called it a chamber, under the school that supposedly holds a monster. Call me crazy, but I'm kind of excited," he smiled cheekily.

Hamir chuckled. "If you had a fascination for monsters, I'm sure Master Strange would introduce you to Fin Fang Foom,"

"Who's Fin Fang Foom?"

"A dragon," Hamir said, deadpan. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Sweet mother of Myrlin," he whispered.

"That was my initial reaction," Hamir laughed. Harry's eyes widened at the thought. Real dragons? It was almost unthinkable! Then again, all the stuff he could do, maybe it wasn't so farfetched.

That night, a tired looking owl gave a tired looking professor a letter, which she read and began pace walking to the office of a not so tired looking headmaster. "Albus, we have a problem," Minerva McGonagall placed the letter on Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore chuckled, probably reading the PS. "Hmm. I'm sorry, Minerva, but I don't understand what the problem is. Maybe Vernon and Petunia kept us a secret from young Harry, but that's nothing to worry about," Dumbledore held the printed letter in his hands, before turning it over and seeing the address. "Ah. I think I see the problem now," he got up and walked over to his fireplace, throwing some green powder in to the flames. "Hagrid's hut, please," he said, sticking his head into the fire. "Hagrid. Are you there?" a huge man came into Dumbledore's field of view.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir. How can I help yer?" the large man kneeled at the fireplace.

"We have had some interesting news concerning Harry Potter," Dumbledore explained, making Hagrid's normally red face go pale.

"Oh, no. He's not… ya know… is he?" he asked, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"Not at all, my friend, not at all," Dumbledore assured the half-giant, who sighed in relief. "However, we would like you to pay the boy a visit. It appears he has no knowledge of our world at all,"

Hagrid clicked his tongue. "Ah, right. I'll fire up the bike,"

Dumbledore smiled. He thrust the letter through the fire, handing it to Hagrid. "Here's the address,"

Hagrid read the address and gasped. "Harry's not in Privet drive!" he read it again. "Blimey, that's a way!"

"Can you do this, Hagrid?" Minerva asked with a raised voice.

"Aye, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid nodded, and Dumbledore took his head out of the fire. He brushed soot and ash off his face and plonked himself down in his chair.

"Well then. Is there anything else, Minerva?" Dumbledore popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and hummed a merry tune.

Harry was in his room, meditating. He liked the quiet of exploring one's own mind. No stress, no worry, just time to himself. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and his eyes snapped open. "Harry, you have a visitor," Lao shook him.

"What?" Harry's eyes widened.

"He is in Master Strange's office," Lao stepped aside to let him leave.

Harry walked in on his masters suspiciously encircling a gigantic man with long bushy black hair. "Hello there," he casually said, hands behind his back performing a basic shield spell.

The huge man turned round and smiled. "'Arry! Good t' fin'ly see yer again!" He stood up and laughed.

Harry stopped, dropping his back foot into an evasive stance. "Um, again? I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think we've met,"

"Ah, course! Last time we met ye was only a baby," Hagrid looked up, as if remembering something. He snapped back to reality. "Right. I'm Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper o' keys an' gates at 'Ogwarts,"

Strange folded his arms. "You're here about the letter?"

Hagrid beamed. "Yep. Professor Dumbledore sent me t' tell ye about 'Ogwarts and our world. And t' find out why yer not livin' wi' t' Dursleys,"

Harry flinched and moved over to Stephen. "They treated me like dirt so I left them. Ma- Doctor Strange took me in and has been looking after me and teaching me for the last three years,"

"But 'Arry, it ain't safe away from t' Dursleys! There were pertective spells round Privet Drive t' keep ye safe an' alive," Hagrid seemed to be begging.

Stephen clenched a fist. "With respect, Mr Hagrid, Harry's spent the last three years living here both safe and alive, so I don't really see a problem here,"

Harry decided that the conversation was getting a little heated, so he decided to change the subject. He looked up at the huge man with interest. "So you came to tell us about your world?"

Hagrid turned and nodded. "Yep! 'Ogwarts teaches young witches and wizards ter use magic. Yer a wizard, Harry,"

Harry snickered, covering his mouth. He looked at Stephen, who gave him a look as if to say 'not a word about us'. Harry held his laughter in and put on a face of wonder and disbelief. "I'm a what?" Stephen sighed and face palmed. Harry was a terrible liar.

Hagrid, however, didn't seem to pick up on this. "A wizard, and a thumpin' good'un, I'd wager, once ye've bin trained up a little,"

Harry bit his lip, and even Stephen had a little smirk playing on his mouth. "There must me some mistake. I can't be a – a – a wizard!" He covered his mouth again. "I'm just, Harry!"

Hagrid tutted. "Well, 'just Harry', did anything ever happen ye couldn't explain, when ye were angry or scared?" Harry nodded, now with a stoic expression, completely under control. "Magic, Harry! 'Ogwarts'll teach ye ter use magic an' cast spells!"

Harry smiled and looked at Stephen. "That actually sounds amazing!" he went up to Stephen. "I think I should do it, Stephen," Strange frowned and turned away, whispering with Wong and Hamir. Harry overheard the words 'safe' and 'training'. He rolled his eyes.

After about 30 seconds Stephen turned and smirked. "If you wanna go, you can go. We're not gonna try and stop you," Harry's eyes widened and he leapt at Stephen, embracing him warmly. "Whoa!" Stephen chuckled nervously, and awkwardly patted Harry on the back.

"Besides," Harry whispered. "Another form of magic? This is going to be brilliant!"

"Well then, Harry," Hagrid got up with a grunt. "We'd best be off then,"

Harry looked at Stephen, then back at Hagrid. "Off?"

Hagrid blinked. "Well, ye've got ter get yer school supplies, don't ye?" Harry nodded slowly. "Come on then, 's a long way ter London," Harry looked at Stephen, who slowly motioned to his Sling Ring.

"Umm, could we meet you there?" Harry asked, earning a raised bushy eyebrow.

"Why's tha'?"

"Well, uh, it's a bit late, and we'd need to find somewhere to stay the night. We'll find a hotel or something and meet you in the morning," Hagrid scratched his beard, then smiled.

"A'right. Here's where ye'll need ta go," he pulled out a business card with a border that seemed to be moving. Hagrid's pocket watch fell out, and the huge man picked it up and looked at it. "Blimey, is that the time? Right, Harry, I'll see ye tomorrow. Thank ye," he nodded to Stephen, Hamir and Wong, and left the sanctum. Harry heard the roar of an engine, then leaned on a pillar.

"That was weird," he remarked, biting his nail.

"Yeah," Stephen replied, pouring himself and the masters a cup of tea. "And stop biting your nails,"

The next day, Harry and Stephen walked through London, from the Sanctum there. Stephen was in a blue suit, and Harry was in a grey polo shirt and blue jeans. They walked to the address Hagrid gave them, and saw the huge man standing under a sign which said 'The Leaky Cauldron'. He saw them and waved. "'Ello, Harry, Dr Strange!" Hagrid shook their hands.

"Please, call me Stephen. I'm excited to see this world you were talking about," Stephen smiled up to the man. The three of them went into the pub.

"Ah, Hagrid! The usual, I presume?" the barman called, beginning to pour a pint.

"Nah, not today, Tom. Official Hogwarts business. 'm takin' young Harry here ter get 'is school supplies,"

Tom's jaw dropped when he saw the young boy. "Merlin's beard, is that Harry Potter?" Stephen's eyes widened and tapped Hagrid on the shoulder, whispering in his ear.

"Sorry, Tom. Not this time. This young'un's Harry Strange," Hagrid said, patting Harry on the back. "Muggleborn, see," Hagrid winked and Stephen sighed in relief.

Tom pouted briefly at the loss of business, then smiled. "Oh, alright then. You know where to go,"

Hagrid lead Stephen and Harry to the back of the pub, revealing an old brick wall. He took out his umbrella, tapping three bricks. The wall folded in on itself, brick by brick, revealing the most fantastical place that Harry had ever seen. Hagrid smirked when he saw the faces of Harry and Stephen. "Welcome, ter Diagon Alley!"

 **What? An update in less than a month? Well, I've got A level mocks coming up so I thought I'd not leave you with nothing for the next month or two. I hope you enjoy this. I'm not too sure if it's the best I've written, so I'd love your responses in the form of reviews of PMs. Thanks :)**


	6. New Magic: 5

**Co-written by Z. R. Stein.**

Walking though Diagon Alley was a rather unique experience for Harry. Sure, he'd lived with and trained as a sorcerer for years, and magic was an everyday part of his life. He had a semi sentient magic sword strapped to his back, for Oshtur's sake (invisible and sleeping though it may be)! However, wizards were just a bit more...blatant...about their magic use.

The shops that lined the alleyway (more of an open air market really) sold products ranging from boomslang skin to broomsticks, and magic was _everywhere_. Paper advertisements moved and changed colour, cauldrons bubbled in windows, and some of the pedestrians that Harry saw were clearly not human. Not that he cared.

Down the street, Harry spotted a potions Shoppe, an ice cream parlour, and a bookstore that both he and Stephen would no doubt be visiting later. For research purposes of course.

"First time's always sum'at special, e'nit?" said Hagrid cheerfully.

Beside Harry, Stephen nodded slowly, taking it all in. He pushed aside his blind wonder and tried to look at Diagon Alley from an analytical perspective. He noticed that, unlike Kamar-Taj, there seemed to be no evidence of ordinary non-magic technology or devices, which was odd. Sorcerers, while not exactly modern, did own phones and Ipods, and one of his and Harry's favorite pastimes had been arranging a movie night with Master Hamir and (occasionally) Wong. The Dursleys, damn them to the Dark Dimension, hadn't allowed their 'freak' of a nephew to watch much television, and Stephen had set out to correct their failure by judiciously educating Harry in pop culture (and no, it wasn't just because so far no one else at Kamar-Taj shared his passion for seventies music and movies). Thinking back to the parchment that Harry's Hogwarts letter was written on, Strange frowned and turned his attention to their enormous companion.

"Excuse me, Hagrid?"

The large man grunted to indicate that he'd heard the doctor, his attention on a store named, unironically, _Eeylops Owl Emporium_.

"Why is there such a lack of technology? Do wizards not believe in cell phones?"

Hagrid shifted his attention away from the Owl Emporium and guffawed.

"Ah, none of those Muggle devices work proper round magic, see? They always short out 'n stop working 'fore long. 'Sides, what would a wizard do with one of them ruddy cell phones anyways? Tha's what we have owls for."

Both Stephen and Harry frowned. Neither of them were aware of any cases of magic passively interfering with technology. In fact, in Stephen's experience, the opposite was true. When magic and science were in equal opposition, science tended to come out on top. Magic wasn't quite as effective against something purely mundane, unless it was specifically designed to affect the physical world; after all, magic worked by overwriting the material world, and something that was already mundane had the home court advantage. In addition, the idea that science and magic couldn't coexist alongside one another was absurd, a conclusion that any Asgardian would agree with.

Strange narrowed his eyes. Since magic couldn't passively interfere with mundane objects, that left two possibilities. Either Hagrid's comment was false, and was simply a rumor passed down through this wizarding world, or (and more worrying), someone or something was actively interfering with mundane electronics. Maybe there was a ward that caused electronics to fail in wizarding areas, or perhaps a geas that made people believe they couldn't work in the first place. Whatever the case, it was rather worrying.

Harry, meanwhile, broke out of a similar train of thought as the three of them reached their apparent destination. A large, three story building constructed from white marble loomed over them, the supporting pillars worryingly slanted.

Hagrid gestured grandly with one massive hand.

"Gringotts, the wizarding bank! Well come on then, no time to waste, we've lots to buy, heh."

Both Stephen and Harry followed, casting surreptitious glances at each other. Truth be told, neither had even considered the fact that wizards might have a different form of currency. They had both planned on using Kamar-Taj's resources to pay for any expenses Harry might incur. Strange stroked his beard; perhaps he could exchange some of the pound notes he had on him for whatever coinage this world used.

Gringotts had a pair of suitably impressive doors, two slabs of burnished bronze. Stephen smiled grimly at the inscription on the doors that warned against theft; somehow, he doubted that the owners of Gringotts had devised a way to stop the use of Sling Rings.

As Hagrid pushed open the doors of the bank, Stephen and Harry looked around. Small, wizened creatures with beady eyes milled around the inside of the bank, sharp teeth glinting slightly upon seeing the three visitors.

Hagrid nodded to a few of them, shepherding the two sorcerers behind his back.

"Goblins. Clever as they come, they're not the friendliest of beasts. Better stay close."

Harry nodded to himself, vaguely remembering having read about goblins in one of the texts Master Wong had given him for his tenth birthday.

The three of them approached the front desk, with an elderly goblin seated high above them. Privately, Harry thought that the desk was so tall to compensate for the goblin's short stature, and the annoyed look to goblin was giving Hagrid (who towered over the desk anyways) seemed to be proof of that. Not that he would tell the goblin that to his face, he liked having his hands attached to his body.

Hagrid cleared his throat and said "Mister Harry Potter here to make a withdrawal."

The goblin at the desk sneered and leaned forwards, eyes flicking to Harry, to his forehead, and then to Doctor Strange. The sneer lessened, though the goblin narrowed his eyes.

"Interesting. And does Mister Harry Potter have the key to his vault?"

Hagrid nodded and began fumbling in his coat. While the large man was distracted doing that, Stephen turned to Harry and pulled a wallet out of his suit pocket.

"You and Hagrid can see about your vault. I'm going to go set up an account for us that draws from Kamar-Taj." Stephen said, his voice low to prevent eavesdropping. "Not that I think Hagrid has any ulterior motives, but it pays to be prepared."

"Good thinking, master."

" _Doctor_."

Harry smirked and let the matter go. It really was a good idea though. On the off chance his vault was ever compromised, it would be a good idea to have an alternative; plus, this way, if anyone else from Kamar-Taj wanted to buy materials from this other magical world, they could.

Stephen straightened up, took two steps, and turned around to say "Just...stay safe while I'm away, alright?"

Harry nodded, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Master Strange was such a worrywart sometimes! Sure, Harry didn't know what threats Gringotts held, but he had Hagrid to protect him, and so far the enormous man hadn't done anything to compromise his trust. Besides, he had a Sling Ring in his pocket and an invisible Dragonfang on his back, not to mention three years of mystical knowledge in his brain. He'd be fine; if worst came to worst, he could open a portal back to Kamar-Taj and let his family in Nepal deal with it.

After Hagrid finished stuffing everything he'd taken out of his coat back in (and honestly, who kept a rubber duck and a half finished sandwich inside their coat?) the two of them set out once more. Ragnok, the goblin at the desk, had assigned them a younger goblin named Griphook as a guide. They walked through long halls lit by flickering braziers, the gleaming white marble floors giving way to rough-hewn rock walls. Soon, they reached a nexus of minecarts, and Griphook hopped in.

"Vault 687 is our destination, please get in the minecart and we will be on our way." Griphook stated in a bored tone of voice.

The minecart ride was rather exciting, in Harry's opinion, and reminded him of the stories Doctor Strange told him of the Ancient One's spacial manipulation magic. Harry knew that his surrogate father had been working to master spacial manipulation as well, but he had yet to perform such magic outside of the Mirror Dimension. Hagrid didn't seem to share Harry's opinion though, his countenance turning green as the ride went downwards, twisting and turning seemingly without logic.

The minecart stopped in front of a massive iron door, and Griphook hopped out.

"Key please."

Hagrid handed the goblin the key as he leaned against a nearby pillar, breathing heavily.

Harry's eyes widened to saucer like proportions upon seeing the massive pile of gold within his vault.

"This is mine?"

Hagrid, who had recovered enough to be steady walked over to Harry and slapped him gently on the back (the slap was still strong enough to send him stumbling).

"Every Knut, Sickle, an' Galleon. Di'nd think yer parents left you with nuthin', now didja?"

Harry looked strangely at Hagrid before shrugging.

"I...never really thought about it like that."

Sure, Harry knew on an intellectual level that he had parents before Stephen and the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj. He knew his mother, Lily, had been Aunt Petunia's sister, and that his father had been named James. When he was younger, he had ached to know more about them, what they would have thought of him, what their voices sounded like. Now though; well, Stephen had replaced the indistinct figure of James in his mind, with Wong, Master Hamir, and the rest filling in familial slots. The thought that the rest of the world wouldn't consider Stephen to be his father hadn't occurred to him.

Shaking his head, Harry went to gather up handfuls of coins, stuffing them into a bag Griphook provided for later use. He could think about family dynamics after buying all of the supplies he needed.

When Harry had finished, the three of them clambered back into the minecart and they set off again. Harry frowned though; for some reason, they were going lower, not higher. The car stopped once more in front of an entirely different vault, this one without an obvious keyhole.

"Why are stopping here?" Harry asked.

Hagrid wobbled slightly as he clambered out of the minecart and responded "Got to get somethin' fer Dumbledore. Important package, very important. Secret too, don't tell anyone bout this Harry." Hagrid tapped the side of his nose in emphasis.

Harry frowned again, deeper this time. Hagrid must have arranged to come to this vault while he and Master Strange were discussing setting up the Kamar-Taj vault. Still, what did he need to pick up?

Griphook stood in front of the vault door and raised his hand before stiffening. He turned his head and glared at the duo behind him.

"I would advise standing back. This is a special goblin lock, it can do nasty things to wizards who try to break in."

Hagrid and Harry shuffled a few steps back, which seemed to placate Griphook. The goblin ran his finger down the door, which slowly creaked open.

Inside, Harry saw an empty room, save for a tiny package in the center of a beam of light. Hagrid, after checking with Griphook to ensure there were no further defenses, went in and grabbed the package. He slipped it into one of his pockets and patted it, glancing down at his companion.

"Best not to mention this to anyone Harry."

Harry didn't respond, eyes fixed onto Hagrid's pocket. That feeling...there was strong magic spilling out from the package that Hagrid had picked up. Still, Harry supposed it wasn't any of his business. Kamar-Taj held many powerful and/or dangerous artifacts, and if this Dumbledore person trusted Hagrid to carry this particular one, it shouldn't be a problem. Still, Harry wondered what it could be. Something that small and in that shape...perhaps a crystal ball of some kind?

As the three of them clambered back into the minecart, this time to ascend to the surface, Harry kept thinking about what the package could possibly be. An idea flitted across his mind and he shivered; the small package _was_ about the same size as the Eye of Agamotto that dwelt in the Sanctum Nexus. However, the Eye felt entirely different from the package, far older and more powerful, so Harry discarded that possibility. No one would be stupid enough to leave an Infinity Stone just lying around.

When they reached the main hall of Gringotts again, they met up with Stephen, who had a bemused look on his face. Hagrid excused himself, citing a need for a strong drink to quell his stomach after the minecart rides. Harry wathed the giant of a man go before turning to his master questioningly.

"What's that look for?" asked Harry.

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking how I never would have found out any of this existed if I hadn't texted while driving."

Harry smiled at that. Master Strange had told him some about the terrible journey he went through after his car crash, and while Harry wouldn't wish that on anyone, it was _because_ of Stephen's accident that he was able to find Harry. Harry wouldn't be a sorcerer if it weren't for Stephen's crash. Life was poetic like that sometimes.

"Did you do the account thing?" Harry asked as the two of them exited the bank

Stephen nodded, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a bronze key.

"Vault 616. There's only a few thousand pounds worth of wizarding money in there right now, just what I had on me, but if needs be we can fill it up completely."

Harry nodded as Stephen pocketed the key in his blue suit. After a moment's consideration he held up his bag of wizarding coins and jingled it.

"So...wanna go hit up the bookstore?"

Both Stephen and Harry grew matching Cheshire cat-like grins and they walked briskly towards _Flourish and Blotts_.

. . .

Two hours and many purchases later, Harry and Stephen exited Madam Malkin's. As Hagrid still hadn't returned (for whatever reason), the two sorcerers had elected to obtain everything on Harry's list on their own. Apart from one or two mishaps, they had obtained everything they needed. Well, almost everything…

"I still need...a wand." Harry said.

Stephen nodded, recalling that one of the shops in the alley had been a wand seller, _Ollivander's_ if he remembered correctly. The fact that a wand was mandatory for wizards had briefly confused Stephen when he first read the list, but he'd soon acquainted it to a sorcerer's relic. At least, he thought that's what a wand was like. Who knew with these people?

 _Ollivander's_ soon came into view. Underneath the spidery signage that announced the shop's name was another smaller scrawl that read _Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_. Well, at least the shop had a long pedigree.

The two sorcerers entered the building, and were immediately struck by the heady sense of magic. Harry was reminded of his jaunt through the London Sanctum; the air there had the same feeling, that of age and contained power. The scent of dust and wood shavings filled Harry's nose, and he smiled minutely.

Stephen looked around as well, noting the long rows of boxes along the walls. The back of his neck prickled, and he spun around, Harry following suit not long after.

In the corner of the shop was an old man, tall and thin, with eyes that almost seemed luminous framed by a mane of grey hair. He peered closely at the two of them, eyebrows raised.

"How interesting."

Stephen frowned and examined the man in turn. Something about him seemed... _off_. He had a similar air about him as the Ancient One had had, though perhaps not to the same level. The air of a very, _very_ old being who had seen both wonderful and terrible things, and had lived to tell about it. In other words, not someone to be trifled with.

The man (Ollivander, Stephen presumed) stepped closer.

"Harry Potter. I wondered when I would see you in my shop. Though...I certainly didn't imagine meeting like this. It has been many years since I have met a sorcerer, and never before has one come to buy a wand."

Both Harry and Stephen started, but the man ignored them, fingers already tracing along the boxes on the wall. Harry exchanged a look with his Master before asking "Ah...you know that we're sorcerers?"

Ollivander pulled a box out of the wall, looked at it, and nodded as he brought it over.

"Most of wizardkind wouldn't. They rarely deign to look outside of their little world, even those who claim to be curious. They're too wrapped up in their own problems. As a wand maker, though...well, I travelled for decades in my youth, seeking out and finding as many secrets about my craft as I could. And when one travels for long enough, one is bound to find many secrets that they never intended to find at all. Here."

Ollivander handed Harry the wand from the box.

"This particular wand is elm, with a dragon heartstring core. Rather flexible too, even at 13 and a quarter inches."

Harry blinked, looked at the wand, and then looked back at Ollivander, not knowing what he was supposed to do.

"Well, don't just stand there, give it a wave!"

Harry waved the wand and winced; on his back, Dragonfang expressed its disapproval. The wand sparked and flew out of Harry's hand, landing on the floor some distance away.

Ollivander raised a single eyebrow before humming.

"No, that won't do. Here, try this one. Juniper, with a unicorn hair. A stubborn old mare as well, interesting combination."

Harry waved the newly proffered wand and the same thing happened.

Soon, they had gone through almost thirty wands, and not a single one of them had gained Dragonfang's approval. Harry sighed. He wasn't sure what the relic was looking for, but he wanted it to hurry up. Maybe the sword was just jealous? He could feel the wands trying to interact with his magic every time he waved one, but the relic metaphorically slapped their hands away every time. It was rather frustrating.

Ollivander didn't seem to mind though. In fact, as time went on, he seemed to gain energy, skipping around his store.

"Very tricky customer I see. No matter. We've tried everything from dragon heartstrings to thestral hair and all sorts of woods. I'm surprised the more adventurous woods haven't worked, I would have thought nothing else would work for a sorcerer, a cowardly wood would not perform well in your line of work."

Drawing a box off the shelf, Ollivander tapped his lips before turning on his heel.

"Try this one. Maple wood with dragon heartstring from a Chinese Fireball. Fourteen inches, rigid. A rather odd combination for a rather odd wizard, perhaps."

Harry sighed as he took the wand and waved. Nothing happened besides Dragonfang throwing another temper tantrum. Ollivander frowned. "Well, my boy, this has never happened before. One young woman before went through a dozen wands before I found one suitable, but to go through over 30!"

Harry rolled his eyes and sat down, crossing his legs. "Do you mind if I?" Harry closed his eyes and expanded his mind. His astral form left his body and floated over the counter. He felt the energy pulsing from the wands, each of them almost having a mind of their own. Some of them were actively pushing against him, some were ignoring him, but there, way in the back, surrounded by incompatible wands, was one. One wand which Harry felt an instant connection to. Somehow, some part of him could feel it. Harry re-entered his body and got up. "May I?" he asked. Ollivander gave him space to walk to the back of the room and pick out one wand box. He opened the box and handed it to Ollivander.

"Really? Holly, Phoenix feather, 11 inches. We shall see," Harry picked up the wand before his eyes widened. Golden sparks shot from the tip in great showers, and Harry felt a grudging approval from Dragonfang. He felt similar to when he'd initially attained his relic, though the wand didn't have the same level of sentience as his sword did. Still, it filled Harry with warmth to know that he now had a wand all of his own.

Ollivander peered at the wand closely before glancing at Harry's back.

"How curious. The wand chooses the wizard, as they say, but in this case...hmm. Very curious,"

"Curious?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I remember every single wand I have ever sold, Mr Potter, from my first to my hundredth to my three thousandth. I remember the twelfth wand I sold on the twenty first of August 1938, which was to a young boy named Tom. His wand was 13 and a half inches, yew, and phoenix feather. The feather in that wand came from the same phoenix as the feather in this one. This is curious, because that boy went on to become the man who would give you that scar," Harry crossed his eyes and tried to see the lightning bolt scar.

"Yeah, that is pretty curious," he agreed.

"Either way, That will be seven galleons, my boy,"

Harry handed Ollivander the requisite coins out of his pouch, eyes fixed on the wand, beside him, Stephen looked at it too.

"What are you thinking?"

"I think that we should take a closer look at this thing when we get back home."

Stephen nodded; he'd already planned on spending several days delving into the materials they'd picked up from Diagon Alley.

A knocking at the window drew their attention, and the two sorcerers turned to see Hagrid standing outside, holding up a snowy white owl.

"Happy birthday Harry!"

Harry Potter turned to his master and grinned.

"I suppose that's where he was for the past three hours."

"How long does it take to buy an owl? We could have been halfway to Asgard by now."

 **Thanks again to Z.R. Stein for writing this one, you a star, boy!**

 **R.I.P John Hurt. Never cruel nor cowardly. Never give up, never give in.**

 **I'll see you all next time!**


	7. New Magic: 6

Harry, Stephen, Hamir and Wong were sitting at a round table, staring at an 11 inch long wooden stick. Stephen scratched his chin. "You can all sense it, right?" he asked, looking around the table.

Wong and Hamir nodded. Harry picked the wand up. "When I got this, I felt a connection to it. Like how I found Dragonfang, but, I don't know, more submissive,"

"How do you mean?" Hamir asked.

Harry put Dragonfang on the table. "Well, Dragonfang has sort of a mind of its own, and sometimes it won't let me use it, but the wand feels more like… a part. It's sort of like the nozzle on a hose,"

Wong frowned. Hamir folded his arms. Strange scratched his chin. "Hmm," the Sorcerer Supreme was lost in thought. He waved his hand over the wand. "It feels like there is some magic in there, but nowhere near as much as our relics," Harry chuckled. "What?" Strange asked him.

"Nothing, it's just that Dragonfang's glad you think it's better than my wand," Harry yawned. "It's getting late. Goodnight, masters," Harry bowed and, upon receiving nods from the three sorcerers, Sling-ringed to his room. He changed into his pyjamas and lay on his bed, closing his eyes. His astral form floated above his resting body and he flew over to his new pile of school books. He'd all but studied up to a 10th grade level, so he had some time to kill. He may as well hit the reading list. "Magical Drafts and Potions, by Arsenius Jigger," he flipped open the old book and skipped past the introduction to chapter 1. "The single most useful item in curing poisons is the bezoar. Bezoars can be used as a cure for most known poisons. The most effective bezoar would be one found in the stomach of a goat, as the animal's latent capabilities can…"

"… Lacewing flies must be stewed for 21 days, or the potion will fail. Mix in the fluxweed, picked at full moon and the boomslang skin, stir for precisely 4 hours and you will have a correctly brewed polyjuice potion, requiring only the piece of the person you wish to disguise yourself as," Harry sighed as he floated back to his body, waking up and pulling his curtains, flooding his room with light. He rubbed his forehead and looked at the goddamned book he'd spent all night reading. "For something so similar to chemistry, you are way too boring!"

Entering the mess hall, he sat himself down by Master Hamir, and the two began chatting as per. "I read this book about potions last night," Harry remarked.

"Potions?" Hamir asked, taking a bite of hash brown.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, they use all sorts of weird things. One of them involves the diced hide of a deer. How do you dice a deer hide?"

"I'm sure you'll enjoy finding out," Hamir chuckled.

"Yeah, I just hope the practice is more fun than the theory," Harry,

"It usually is. Some of the books here are not the most interesting things in the world," Hamir whispered. Across the room, Wong narrowed his eyes.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How does he hear you?"

Hamir shrugged. "I honestly have no idea,"

The weeks passed, and the time when Harry was to go to Hogwarts was almost upon them. Harry was packing everything he'd need into his suitcase, idly stroking Hedwig as he used his sorcery to fold his robes, wondering why he couldn't just wear trousers. He heard a knock at the door. It was Stephen.

"Hey, kid. You all set?" he asked, hands behind his back.

"Just about. I'm packing my last few things now," he replied. Hedwig cooed lightly. "What's behind your back?" Harry craned his neck to see behind Stephen.

"Well, I think that owl-mail may be slightly slower than alternatives, so Wong, Hamir and I pitched in to get you this," he revealed a brown cardboard box with large writing on the side, reading 'Macintosh PowerBook 170'.

Harry's eyes widened and his lips curled into a wide smile. "Is this a laptop?"

Strange smiled. "Yep. Now you can e-mail us instead of using Hedwig," the owl screeched, somewhat offended. "Sorry," he smiled apologetically. Hedwig ruffled her feathers angrily. Harry's jaw was completely slack. He took the laptop out of the box and ran his hands over the top. He placed the laptop in his trunk. "If you don't like it, I can-," Stephen was cut off by Harry wrapping his arms around his guardian, nearly crushing Stephen's ribcage.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, a single tear falling from his smiling face. Stephen pulled Harry tighter, ruffling his hair.

After what seemed like hours, Harry let go of Stephen, who cleared his throat. "Alright. You'd better finish packing up, then get a good night's rest. Night, Harry,"

Harry smirked. "Thank you, _Master,"_ he bowed.

Stephen sighed, facepalming. "You are unbearable, sometimes," he left Harry alone to finish packing.

Harry awoke the next morning to the sound of an explosion. He jolted upright and opened his curtains. He saw green scales. It was like Godzilla (best movie night ever) was standing in the middle of the sanctum. Harry looked up and saw that he was not entirely wrong. It wasn't Godzilla, but in fact a giant, 100 foot tall bipedal dragon, attacking the village. "Oh dear," he said, quickly changing into his Gi and running to the courtyard. He saw Hamir, Stephen and Wong preparing to battle the behemoth. He ran to Hamir's side and put his hand around Dragonfang's hilt. Feeling the buzz of the sword readying itself for use, he drew it from its sheath. "Umm, who's that?" he asked casually.

Hamir dropped into a defensive stance. "Fin Fang Foom," he replied, not averting his gaze from the monster, who had turned to stare the sorcerers down.

"Cool," Harry smirked.

"Harry, run," Stephen commanded, lifting himself off the ground with the cloak.

Harry looked at his Master incredulously. "Stephen, this is what I've trained for!"

Strange looked Harry dead in the eyes. "Harry, no! If you fight, he will kill you!"

"You don't think I'm strong enough?"

"I think that a 100 foot tall giant dragon man is stronger than you!" Stephen formed a shield to protect himself from an incoming plume of fire, the other masters and Harry following suit. "Harry, please! You can't fight him!"

Fin roared and punched the sorcerers. Wong dodged, Stephen flew away, Hamir, Sling-ringed to the other side of the courtyard. Harry looked up at the fist and did the only thing he could think of. He quickly formed a barrier above his head, and poured every ounce of energy he had into it. Fin's fist hit the shield, and the area around them was hit by a shockwave. "Hah!" the dragon's deep voice bellowed. "You send children? How pitiful!" He brought down his fist on Harry's shield again, a crack forming down the middle of the circular barrier. "Impressive," Fin growled, peering down at the young sorcerer. "You are still alive," He took a deep breath in. "Let's see how you handle THIS!" Fin roared, and a great tongue of flame engulfed Harry.

"HARRY!" Stephen screamed, flying to the neck of the monster and firing every spell and curse he knew, more than a few piercing the thick armour of scales. Fin screamed in rage and pain, swatting Strange out of the sky. Stephen collided with a pillar and collapsed in a heap. Harry sprinted over to his Master and held his head.

"Master? Stephen, wake up!" He put his hand on Stephen's head and pushed a small amount of energy into his core. Stephen's eyes slowly opened.

"Ugh, that hurt," he groaned, rubbing the back of his head. Then his eyes glowed green and a beam of power shot from his mouth. "Argh!" he yelled, falling to the floor. "What was that?"

Harry looked at Stephen, grasping Dragonfang tightly. "I may have given you too much energy. Sorry,"

"You know how risky that is!" Strange pulled himself to his feet.

"Riskier than fighting a dragon?!" Harry exclaimed running at Fin. He drove Dragonfang into his foot, pulling it through flesh, bone and scales down to the ground.

"RRRAAAAAAAGHHHHHH!" Fin screamed. "HOW DARE YOU?!" he lifted his foot and stomped on Harry, who rose Dragonfang above his head. Fin stepped on the blade and reeled in agony. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT!"

"No he won't!" Harry heard Stephen yell. The Sorcerer Supreme opened a Sling Portal to London. "Go!" Stephen shouted at Harry.

Harry hesitated for one moment. "Please don't die,"

Stephen smirked weakly. "I won't if you don't,"

Harry smiled. "Goodbye, Master," he leapt through the portal, leaving his friends to battle Fin Fang Foom. Quickly, he opened a portal to his room, retrieving Hedwig and his trunk, and made his way to King's Cross station.

After changing into jeans and a hoodie in a public toilet (never again), he took out his ticket and read it. "Platform 9 and 3 quarters. Why?" he stopped to read a map. There was a platform 9 and a platform 10, but so 9 and 3 quarters. Sighing, and preparing himself for the incoming confused looks, he went up to a guard and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sir? Can you tell me how to get to platform 9 and 3 quarters?"

The guard blinked. "9 and 3 quarters? You 'avin' a laugh, son?" Harry looked the man dead in the eye. "Where's your parents?"

Harry smiled fakely. "Tibet," the man became even more confused. "I'm on my way to boarding school, and I'm just following the instructions on my ticket. Thank you for your help," Harry pushed his trolley away from the flustered guard. Walking to platform 9 he looked around. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual busy people rushing to catch their train, buskers and a red-headed family striding to platform 10 chatting about Muggles. Wait, what? Harry slowly followed the family, keeping enough distance so it wasn't obvious. The group, a woman, probably the mother, was leading 4 boys of different ages and a girl who looked younger than Harry.

"OK, Percy, you first," the woman said, and the eldest boy, who wore a shiny badge on his lapel with the letter P on it, walked briskly towards the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Harry narrowed his eyes to see better, but a large group of people exited a train, obstructing his view. Harry shook his head and went over to the woman. "Alright, now you, Fred,"

One of the middle children tutted. "I'm not Fred, I'm George! Call yourself my mother?"

"Oh, Sorry, George," she sighed as the boy prepared to go.

"Just kidding, I am Fred," he laughed as he and the other boy, who was probably his twin, followed him. The two disappeared as they made contact with the barrier.

Harry cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

The plump woman turned and smiled at him. "Yes, dear?"

"I'm trying to get onto the platform. I've never done this before," he smiled meekly. Use your cuteness to your advantage while you have it.

"Oh, of course, dear! It's Ron's first time too," Harry looked at the ginger boy who grinned at him. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Hi," Harry said.

"Hullo," Ron replied.

"Well," the woman explained, "all you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Best to run if you're nervous,"

"Thank you, Mrs, umm,"

"Molly Weasley," Molly beamed.

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," Harry nodded and ran towards the barrier, shutting his eyes. When he opened them, he saw a plume of steam coming from a black train with the words 'Hogwarts Express' on the front. Hundreds of people in clothes ranging from pinstripe suits to full on stereotypical magician's robes complete with stars and moons. It was like someone dropped a train into Diagon Alley. He took his trunk and Hedwig's cage off his trolley, which subsequently disappeared. He smiled, thinking about how Stephen would… his smile turned into a worried frown. Was Stephen alright? Was he alive? He hurried to the train, but struggled to pull his trunk up over the runner and hold Hedwig. Honestly, he was about twelve seconds from flat out using his Sling Ring to transport it onto the train.

"Need a hand?" someone asked. Harry turned to see the twins from earlier.

"Yes please," he smiled weakly. One of them picked up Hedwig's cage and the other lifted the other end of the trunk. "Thanks a lot for this," Harry said, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes, which temporarily revealed his scar.

"Blimey," one of them said. "Is he…?"

"I think he is," the other one said.

"Are you?" the first one again.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Did these two know about his sorcery? Stephen said to keep it quiet, but was it already common knowledge? Mr Ollivander already knew, so it wasn't a stretch to think so. "Am I who?"

"Harry Potter?" they said in unison.

Harry's heart began to beat again. "Oh, um, yeah. Is that bad?" the two of them spluttered, and Harry took this opportunity to back away. "Thanks for this," he said, turning to find an empty carriage. All he heard was 'Harry Potter!'

Harry sat himself down and took out his laptop before putting his trunk in the overhead, cheating this time by using a smidge of sorcery to push in. He opened up his email.

 _Dear Stephen,_

 _Are you alright? If you reply, that means you're holding up your end of our deal. Please tell me you're okay. I got on the train fine, after talking to a really unhelpful guard. A family called the Weasleys helped me out, they showed me how to get onto the platform (it's like a sling portal inside a wall!) and two of them helped me load my trunk onto the train. They looked at my scar funny and asked if I was Harry Potter. Is there something I don't know? If you're alive, please explain this to me. I'm really looking forward to getting to Hogwarts, it sounds… interesting…_

 _Reply soon,_

 _Harry._

Harry pressed send and sighed. 'Myrlin, say Stephen is alright,'

"Excuse me, do you mind? Everywhere else is full," someone said. Harry looked up to see Ron, the boy from earlier standing in the doorway.

"No problem," Harry said. Ron smiled and sat opposite Harry. "Ron Weasley, right?"

"Yep!" Ron beamed, holding out his hand.

Harry shook it. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter," he mentally cursed himself for saying that. Ron's jaw dropped to the Earth's core.

"Bloody Hell!" he whispered. "Do you have the… the…" Harry raised an eyebrow. "The scar?" he said under his breath.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh, this?" he brushed his hair off his forehead, and Ron almost fainted.

"Merlin's beard. So that's where You-Know-Who…" Ron started.

"Who?" Harry said, curiously.

"You know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Ron waved his hands about as if it was obvious.

"Sorry, I don't have a clue what you're on about," Harry shrugged, then his laptop pinged.

"What was that?" Ron asked, furrowing his brow.

"My laptop," Harry said, opening it and seeing an e-mail from Kamar-Taj. He breathed a sigh of relief as he opened it.

"Lap…top?" Ron seemed confused.

"You've never heard of a laptop?" Harry asked, genuinely worried, but then remembered the distinct lack of technology in Diagon Alley. "It's a miggle thing,"

"D'you mean muggle?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, muggle, sorry. You use it to send letters to people without using paper," Harry read the e-mail.

 _Harry,_

 _Everything's fine now. Thor owes me a favour, so he came and pitched in. He sprinkled some herb in Foom's eyes that put him to sleep, then carried him to a cave somewhere. The courtyard needs a lot of fixing up, but Wong and Lao volunteered. A portal in a wall? Sounds cool. Did you feel anything coming from it, like an aura or something?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Stephen._

 _P.S. people know your name because apparently you're famous. Some guy named Volvdjbvewpbw9uvapewf9uhf32879tgpi4bd;IQLFEWIUFH321-130=-_ the screen went blank, and Harry gasped. "What the heck?" he pressed all the buttons, flipping the on-off switch a dozen times, but the laptop was completely dead. "Sweet mother of Myrlin, Stephen's going to kill me," Hedwig ruffled her feathers triumphantly. Ron looked confused. "So… are you're your family wizards?" Harry changed the subject.

From there, Harry made a steadfast friend. They talked about Ron's family, Harry's time with the Dursleys, and some basic information about his time with Stephen. A half hour passed, and they didn't even realise the train had already left the station and was speeding through the British countryside. "And so that's how the internet works. I think," Harry said, grinning at Ron's mystified look.

"Wow, that's brilliant!" Ron's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Okay, your turn. Show me something cool that you have," Harry grinned, crossing his legs.

"Well, I could do some magic I suppose," Ron shrugged, taking out his wand.

"Sounds great!" Harry said.

"Alright then. Fred and George taught me one that's meant to turn my rat yellow," Ron took a rat out of his pocket. "This is Scabbers. He's a worthless old thing but he's been in the family for years, and we can't just get rid of him," Ron pointed his wand at Scabbers and cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies bu-,"

"Have either of you two seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one," Harry and Ron shook their heads apologetically. The girl sighed, then saw Ron's wand. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see then," she sat down next to Harry.

"Ahem. Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow – turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" nothing happened. Scabbers remained his dull grey colour. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not a very good one, is it?" she looked at Harry. "You have a rip in your coat. Do you mind?" Harry looked at where she was pointing her wand and shrugged.

"Sure,"

"Alright then. R _eparo_ ," Harry's hoodie knitted itself together like ma- oh yeah, right.

"That's pretty cool," Harry remarked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He needed to invest in a scrunchie or some hair gel. The girl looked at his head.

"You're Harry Potter!" she exclaimed. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century," she spoke with the speed of a hurricane. "Sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I? I'm Hermione Granger," she turned to Ron. "And you are?"

"Ron Weasley," Ron replied.

"Pleasure," Hermione peered down her nose at him. "You have a bit of dirt on your nose, by the way, just there," she pointed on her own face, and Ron wiped his nose on his sleeve. Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned to leave. "I'd better help Neville find his toad, and you two'd better change into your robes, we'll probably arrive soon,"

"Hermione?" Harry called before she left.

She looked over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"Could I borrow one of those books when we get to Hogwarts? I don't really know why people know who I am,"

Hermione looked shocked for a moment, then shrugged. "Of course!"

The day turned to night. Ron and Harry chatted about everything they could think of, from sweets to pastimes. Hermione even joined them after trying (and failing) to find that Neville boy's toad. She gave Harry a book, which he eagerly speed read, incredibly tempted to pop into his astral form, but he held off. Good thing, too, because three boys came into their compartment. He did not want to miss this. "I heard Harry Potter was in this compartment. It's the talk of the train. Is it true?" Ron and Hermione looked at Harry, who stretched his arms.

"Harry Potter. Hmm, name doesn't ring a bell," he cupped his chin in mock-thought. "Uh, nope, sorry," he shook his head, revealing his scar.

The blond boy, Harry assumed he was the leader of their little pack, folded his arms. "What's that scar, then?"

Harry sniggered. "Darn, you found me out," he clicked his fingers. "Well, I suppose I'm Harry Potter then. Is that a problem?"

The boy sneered at Harry's company. "Draco Malfoy. This is Crabbe and Goyle," Draco took a step closer to Ron, who stood up. Harry stood with him. "No need to ask your name. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford,"

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He held out his hand for Harry to shake.

Harry looked at the hand, looked at Ron, winked, and shook it. Draco smirked. "No thanks," Harry said casually, releasing Draco's hand and sitting down.

Draco's smirk turned into a sneer. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Ron stood up, balling his fists. "Say that again,"

Hermione sighed and buried her head in a book. "Sit down, Ronald," she chided.

Ron was about to retort when Harry put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "She's right, Ron. He's not worth it," Ron looked at Harry. "Come on, we can play that exploding snap game you told me about," Ron nodded and sat down. Draco sniggered and turned to leave. He stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I get the funny feeling you don't like me. That's fine. So I'll stick with my friends and you can stick with yours, and nobody has to get hurt, alright?" Draco frowned, and Harry could have sworn he heard a growl. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle turned on heel and walked away. Harry sat down and sighed. "This scar is not going to do me any favours, is it?"

Ron laughed, dealing out the cards. "No, sorry mate," Harry picked up his cards and looked at Ron. He twitched his head for him to turn to Hermione. Ron made an 'Oh' face and cleared his throat. "Um, Hermione, d'you want to play?"

She peered over the top of her book at the game. "Alright," she said, bookmarking her page and taking her dealt cards.

The train pulled into the station soon after, and Ron, Hermione and Harry left the compartment together. Harry tried to get his bag down, but then realised it wasn't there, nor was Hedwig. "Our bags are taken to the school before we get there," Hermione mentioned. "Come on, we're going to miss the boats!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, they won't leave without us,"

Harry laughed at their exchange. They disembarked the train and followed the flow of children towards a hulking man with a lantern. Hagrid waved at the three of them "Alright, 'Arry?" he grinned.

Harry waved back. "Hi, Hagrid,"

Hagrid waved his lantern and pointed towards a huge body of water. "First years, this way!" Hagrid lead them to a huge line of boats. Harry, Ron and Hermione climbed into one, followed by another, plumper boy.

Hermione turned and smiled. "Oh, did you find your toad, Neville?"

Neville looked at his shoes and shook his head. "No, but he'll turn up," he looked sick.

"You alright?" Harry asked, seeing the boy's eyes darting around.

"I-I'm fine. Just a little nervous," he tentatively held out his hand. "I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom," he said.

Harry shook his hand. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter," Neville fainted.

Hagrid sighed. "There's always one," he muttered, pushing the boat into the water, where it seemed to propel itself. Harry and Ron chatted away, while Hermione looked around herself. Neville came to eventually, but took one look at Harry and subsequently fainted again. After 10 minutes of sailing, Harry saw a huge castle, with towering spires, huge stained glass windows, a bridge leading to mainland, and huge turrets that looked like you could hold out in here from one of those zombie apocalypses he'd seen in films. Hagrid, in his own, much bigger boat stood up and turned around. "Welcome ta Hogwarts!"

 **My god. A double length chapter royale! Goodness me! Well, this was fun.**

 **An incredibly huge thank you to Z.R. Stein, whose chapter it was that pushed us to the top Doctor Strange crossover on the site! You are awesome, Z! And of course, all you y'all are awesome, too! You guys got us here, and I only want to go further!**

 **Do you like the new cover art? It was a rushed job, but it's better than nothing I guess… If you can think of anything better, feel free to tweet me :) (Link on my profile).**

 **As always, favourite, follow and review! All reviews and PMs will be replied to!**

 **See you next time!** don'ated for one moment. "rcerer Supreme opened a Sling Portal to London. "ownster and held his formed a barriSt


	8. New School: 1

Hagrid lead the group of children through the castle. Some of them had their jaws dropped like a snake about to eat a boulder. Some of them were shaking their heads and laughing. Harry, however, was just taking everything in, every moving painting, every ghost that flew over their heads (that one was stored away), and every old wooden door. In his personal opinion, they'd overdone it a bit with the whole 'we are magic' thing. Were the moving staircases really necessary? The group stopped outside a massive pair of doors, with an old woman in green robes and a witch hat of the same shade. She wore an expression that was stern but welcoming. She reminded him of Wong a little. Harry vowed then and there to make her laugh. Somehow, it would be done. She cleared her throat, and all the students went silent. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration professor McGonagall. The start of term banquet will begin shortly," Harry's ears pricked up at the word 'banquet'. Professor McGonagall's eyes quickly studied each of her new students, making her own predictions as to what house they would be sorted into. "Before the banquet begins, you will be sorted into your houses. These houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin," her eyes rested for a moment on a blonde boy, clearly a Malfoy, who smirked. "While in Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will go to classes with your house, you will share a dorm with your house, and outside of class, and you will relax in your respective house common rooms," She saw the last Weasley boy, stood next to a brunette girl and the spitting image of James Potter. She refrained from letting a smile grace her lips. "House points can be awarded for achievements, and rule-breaking will lose you points. At the end of the year, these points will be counted, and the house with the most points will win the house cup. "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. Follow me," she turned around and opened the massive doors with a flick of her wand. All the students gasped as the great hall of Hogwarts was revealed. Candles floated all around the room, illuminating the areas that the huge lamps didn't reach. It looked like there was no ceiling at all, just the night sky, complete with stars and clouds. "That's not real, is it?" Harry whispered to Ron. Hermione opened her mouth to explain, but Ron chuckled.

"Nah, Charlie said it was enchanted to look like the sky," he pointed at the corner of the room. "That's where it's obvious," Harry saw where the ceiling joined with the walls.

"That is so cool," Harry grinned, thinking that it would look really cool in his room. Everyone stood in a disorderly group in front of the four tables, every eye on the manky old hat on a pedestal in front of them. Harry closed his eyes and sensed the magic coming from the room. He sensed the hat, its years and wisdom, but also its personality, no, personalities. The hat came alive, looked straight at Harry, nodded, and then began singing. Harry cringed, shook his head, and blocked the world out.

He went into his astral form and floated around the great Hall. The Professors were all sat at an ornate table at the head of the room, all with different expressions. Some looked bored, some looked invested in the god-awful song, but there were two, right on the end, who seemed totally out of it. There was one, who was in maroon robes and a matching turban, who seemed to be talking to someone behind a wall. No, Harry realised, he sensed a second being there. Almost as if there was only one soul in the body, but two minds. Odd. Harry had read that if people used sorcery to share bodies, their souls were crammed into the one body. Maybe it was different for this magic? He flew over to the man, looking him all over for any signs of possession, he noticed the man next to him. He had shoulder length, greasy black hair, with black robes and an expression of part disgust and part confusion. He followed the man's gaze to where he himself was standing. Why was this man looking at him like that? And why did he seem so familiar? Harry shrugged this off, and flew off to explore the castle. Not a moment after phasing through the door, he flew headfirst into a ghost. Instead of going through him as you'd expect, they collided and tumbled back.

"Watch where you're going!" the ghost, who looked to be a teenage boy, spat, before looking intently at Harry. "New ghost?"

Harry seemed shocked that he could be seen. "I, um, I'm not a ghost,"

The ghost snickered. "'course not!"

Harry rolled his eyes and looked at where the ghost was. He seemed to be spreading a green liquid over all the doorknobs in the general area. "I'm Harry Potter," he said, holding out his hand.

"Oohh, another Potty! 'm Peeves," said Peeves, grabbing Harry's hand, shaking it, then spitting green ooze onto it. Peeves fell onto his back, killing himself laughing.

"Ughh! That is just grim!" Harry flicked the ooze off his hand into Peeves' face. The poltergeist stopped laughing, got up and glared at Harry. "Uhh…"

Peeves snarled, then snickered. Then he giggled, then he was rolling in the air laughing again. "I like you, Potty!"

Harry heard clapping, and assumed the song was done. "Got to go, Peeves. See you!" he re-entered his body and clapped raucously, ignoring the look he got from the man in the centre of the table, who had a long white beard and half-moon spectacles.

"When I call your name, come up and be sorted," Professor McGonagall said, holding up a scroll. "Abbot, Hannah,"

The ceremony followed as such. The professor would call someone's name, they'd put the hat on, and after a short while, the hat would shout the name of one of the houses, and that person would go to one of the four long tables. A boy called James Benson went into Hufflepuff, a that annoying Draco kid went into Slytherin, followed by a comment from Ron about how every bad wizard came from Slytherin. A boy named Zach Parr went into Ravenclaw, and that Neville boy, after nearly five minutes, was sorted into Gryffindor, as was Hermione.

"Potter, Harry," McGonagall called out, and Harry walked forwards, ignoring whispers of his name and amazed looks.

Harry sat on the stool and the hat was placed on his head. "Hmm, hmm," the hat said out loud. "Y _ou are right, by the way,"_ it said in his mind.

 _"_ _How are you – nevermind, magic. Right about what?"_

 _"_ _Me having more than one personality. Four to be exact. Very few can do what you did. I could put you in Ravenclaw,"_

 _"_ _Ravenclaw?"_

 _"_ _Intelligent, intuitive, witty,"_ the hat listed off.

Harry smirked. _"That does sound like me,"_

 _"_ _Although,"_ The hat went on. _"You also have a desire to get stronger, to constantly better yourself. Maybe Slytherin is the best fi- Merlin's beard! You fought a dragon today?"_

 _"_ _Yeah, so?"_

 _"_ _Incredible! And I see that you defended a man you just met using… what is that? You call it sorcery?"_

Harry gulped. "P _lease don't tell anyone about that. I need to keep it secret,"_

The hat grumbled. _"That makes this more difficult. See, these are incredibly brave and reckless thing to do,"_

 _"_ _You sound like Stephen,"_ Harry scoffed.

 _"_ _But you… I don't know… hmm…"_ if the hat had hands, or a chin, it would be scratching it. "T _his is quite possibly the toughest sorting I've done in a very long time,"_

Harry looked puzzled. " _What do you mean?"_

 _"_ _Well, most of my hatstalls are because the person disagrees with my decision, but here, I can really not decide,"_ the hat seemed to have decided. "B _etter be… SLYTHER- no! No, no, GRYFFINDOR!"_ The Slytherin table stopped cheering as the Gryffindor table started. Everyone else just stared at Harry. The hat had never changed its' mind before. Harry quickly made his way to the Gryffindor table and sat down beside Ron and Hermione.

The rest of the ceremony was relatively boring. Everyone was sorted into their houses with varying speeds, there were no more 'hatstalls' as the hat called them, and soon everyone was seated. Ron was moaning about how he was tired of waiting for food, Hermione was chatting away about the spells that kept the candles floating without wax dripping everywhere, Fred and George looked as though they were plotting something, and Neville looked anxious about something or other.

Professor McGonagall stood up. "Before we eat, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words,"

Harry saw the white-bearded man in the centre of the table stand up and clear his throat. "Purple, poignant, prosperous, and prune," all the students began to snicker, giggle and, in the twins' case, bark as loudly as possible. Dumbledore clapped his hands, and mountains of food appeared on all the tables. Harry stared at the food and went silent. Slowly, as slowly as he could, he took a few pieces of chicken, some potatoes, carrots and a couple of pieces of broccoli, picked up his cutlery, took a whiff of the plate, and ravenously dove into the meal. He'd forgotten about his severe lack of food the entire day, save for a pumpkin pasty on the train.

After the… heavenly meal, a stuffed Harry, along with the rest of the Gryffindors were guided to the Gryffindor common room, asking Hermione about her parents jobs as dentists, and telling her about Stephen's past as a neurosurgeon, not mentioning that he was now retired and was working as protector of the world from mystical threats. As they passed a door, Dragonfang vibrated in its sheath on Harry's back. Harry stopped and knocked on the door. Putting his ear to the door, he heard growling, as if there was a lion or something behind it.

"You can't go in there!" the prefect scolded, standing in between Harry and the door. He was the boy from the train station, Percy. "It, and the forest are forbidden to students. Professor Dumbledore did cover this, weren't you listening?"

Harry laughed nervously. "I, uh, must have spaced out,"

Percy sighed and went back to the front of the procession. "Let's continue,"

They made their way to a portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress. "Password?" she said, making Harry double-take.

"Caput Draconis," Percy replied, taking a step back. The portrait swung open, revealing the cosiest looking place Harry had ever seen, complete with fireplace and massive armchairs. Everyone around him gasped, and Ron started hitting Harry and pointing at a chessboard.

"They have wizard's chess, Harry!" He was figuratively jumping for joy. Harry laughed at his friend's excitement.

Percy led the boys up one long staircase and the female prefect led the girls up another. "Don't bother trying to get into the girls' dorms, the stairs are charmed to turn into a slide if a boy tries to walk up them," there were some sighs from boys in the group. Harry rolled his eyes, just taking in the castle. They entered the dormitory to see four poster beds, lined up in uniform, with trunks sitting on top of them. Harry went over to his own trunk, made unique by the red ribbon he tied to the handle (also the tracking spell he placed on it), and opened it. All his possessions were in the same place, untouched. He stopped.

"Percy?" he asked, getting the prefect's attention.

"Yes?"

"Where's my owl?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "In the Owlery," he said, as if it was obvious. "From here go down the stairs on the left, then go up to the right and go up the tower ahead of you. But there's a curfew now, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow," Percy left the boys in the dorm to settle in. Harry began unpacking his things, taking Dragonfang off his back and hanging it on the edge of his bed when nobody was looking.

"Hey Ron?" he looked at his new friend.

"Yeah, Harry?" Ron looked up from laying Scabbers on his bedside table.

"I feel like this is going to be a pretty good year," he said, smiling as he hung his extra robes in his wardrobe.

"Yeah, me too," Ron replied. And in a sense, they were right. But in another sense, they were very, very wrong.

 **I am aware that some readers have issues with how similar this is to the original canon so far. I only needed to set up the characters in a way that I was familiar with, because setting up Ron, Hermione, Neville** **and Malfoy from scratch would not have been fun for you to read or me to write. I promise, this is where the ties to canon become looser. Also, in response to my friend who asked me not to go too deeply into the years at Hogwarts, I'm going to probably spend maybe 10-15 chapters on each year, depending on how many ideas I get.**

 **Anyways, I'm going to answer a guest review or two now.**

 **1\. M-My lord Popo! I am honoured that you enjoy my humble offering to your worshipfulness! Please don't kill me, lord!**

 **2\. Guest from March 13** **th** **, I think I've answered your review above. I hope I haven't lost you because of this. I promise, you won't be disappointed if you stick around a little.**

 **3\. Thanos! Damnit! Now two of my gods are here! This is what I get for polytheism, two of them turn up at once. What's next, Akira Toriyama and Stan Lee are gonna walk in? But in all seriousness, I intend to, Lord Thanos. But keep your hands off the eye of Agamotto!**

 **4\. Guest from the 22** **nd** **, Thanks a lot for the support! I intend to continue this as long as I can drag it out for XD**

 **Thanks a lot, everyone, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!**


	9. New School: 2

"Transfiguration," Harry said, looking at his timetable. "Then Herbology, double potions," Ron groaned, pulling on his robes. "What?"

"Snape is the Potions Master, and he hates us Gryffindors,"

"Great," Harry muttered. Two enemies and he'd just arrived! "Then after that double Defence against the Dark Arts," Harry shrugged. "Sounds alright,"

"'cept double potions," Ron pouted.

Harry laughed, then heard the clock tower bell ringing. "Ron?" he said, the bell ringing again. "Transfiguration starts at 9, right?"

All colour, including freckles, drained from Ron's face. "Run!" he shouted, grabbing his books and wand and sprinting out of the common room. Harry picked up his backpack and ran after Ron, throwing Dragonfang over his shoulder and pocketing his Sling Ring.

Harry's first day went about as poorly as one could imagine. First, he was docked ten points and wholly embarrassed in front of his transfiguration class for being late. Then a slug began crawling up his arm in Herbology, causing him to flick it onto the head of an unsuspecting Ravenclaw, losing him another 5 points. Poor Terrence had slime in his hair for hours. So yeah, not a great first day so far, and according to Ron, it was about to get a whole lot worse. "We'd better hurry up, we don't want to be late for Snape," Ron spat out the supposed demon teacher's name. Harry gulped.

"Where's the potions room?" Harry asked.

"Fred and George said it's in the dungeons," Ron looked around and began running down a hallway.

"Are the dungeons this way?" Harry called, following him.

"I don't know!" Ron shouted back.

It was dark, to say the least. There was roughly a candle every five metres, and it definitely showed. Harry was incredibly tempted to give himself night vision, but knew the pattern would be seen on his eyes, not to mention how tiring it would be to hold a spell for two hours straight. Everyone was completely silent, and Harry was most definitely unnerved by the quiet. There were pieces of various animals in jars on shelves dotted around the classroom, and a huge array of salves, poultices and tinctures lined the room. Harry was sat by Hermione. He exhaled and attempted to break the silence. "So," he said, earning glares from some people. "So," he said again, this time in a whisper. "Do you know anything about potions?"

"I've read the first year textbook," she replied, also whispering. "You?"

"I read ahead a few years," he admitted.

"How many?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"All of them," he said, looking at his table, remembering what his fellow primary school pupils did to him when he said he's done work.

"Really?" she said at normal volume, earning shushes and glares. She looked impressed.

"I didn't have anything to d-," Harry was interrupted by the slamming of the dungeon door, as a tall man with greasy black hair and flowing black robes strode into the dark room.

Snape stood in front of his desk, eyeing the Gryffindor side of the room with contempt, his eyes landing on Harry, the contempt turning into disgust and even loathing. Harry did his best to not be intimidated by the teacher. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. Nobody moved, nobody said a word, almost as if his words were hypnotic. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach, Potter!" He snapped his hand onto Harry's desk, who was spinning his pen in his hand idly.

"Yes sir?" Harry looked up to see Snape snarling down at him. He fought the urge to gulp.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" he asked, folding his arms. Harry blinked. He folded his arms and thought, idly chewing his tongue. Snape sighed melodramatically, ignoring Hermione's raised arm.

Harry clicked his fingers. "Is it draught of living death?" Snape stopped, then looked down on him again.

"Are you asking me or telling me, Potter?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Telling you, sir. Draught of living death," Harry repeated, with more conviction he thought he could muster.

Snape made a 'hmph' sound, then stood straight. "Correct," he said albeit begrudgingly. Harry's heart rate lowered to its original level. "And where exactly would one find a bezoar?"

Harry smiled, he knew this one. "The stomach of a goat, sir. Well, any animal's stomach will do, but bezoars from a goat's stomach work the best," Harry heard Hermione sigh, and saw her rub her arm from the corner of his eye.

"And what would be the use of a bezoar?" Snape pressed, his look of contempt turning into more of stern look of surprise.

"It's a generic poison cure, isn't it?" Harry said, tapping his chin.

"Asking or telling, Potter?" Snape snapped.

"Telling, sir!" Harry quickly replied, dropping his pen. He went down to pick up his pen.

"What is this?" Snape said, swiping the pen out of his hand.

"My pen, sir," Harry responded, moving forward slightly to try and get it back.

"And where is your quill and ink?" Snape pressed.

"They're in my dorm room, sir. I prefer to use a pen," Harry almost stood up to Snape. Some of the Gryffindors hissed at his tone, and the Slytherins snickered.

"Well, Mr Potter, due to your fame you may not be familiar with basic rules, but while you are with us peons, you must follow them. Rules that state you must bring correct equipment to your lessons, including a quill and ink. Am I clear?" Snape sneered at Harry, whose nostrils flared.

He pulled his pen out of Snape's grip and sat down. "Yes,"

"Yes what?" Snape growled.

"Yes… sir," Harry replied, eyes narrowed.

Snape stood straight and turned around. "I expect to see you with a quill and ink in my lessons. You will be receiving detentions if I don't.

At lunch, in the great hall, Harry was sitting with Ron, Hermione and Neville, who Snape had spent a good chunk of the lesson insulting for his supposed incompetence. "I still can't get over it!" Ron was completely giddy, grinning from ear to ear. Neville was nervously twiddling his thumbs, and Hermione was rolling her eyes with her nose buried in a book.

"Get over what? I answered some questions and got told off for having a pen!" Harry said, cutting up his sausage.

Ron helped himself to a spoonful of mash. "Yeah, but you stood up to him, and you didn't get points knocked off!" his smile turned into a frown. "Still, Fred and George were right, he's a nightmare,"

Harry shrugged. "I think he's alright," Hermione, Neville and Ron's jaws dropped.

"What?" they all exclaimed.

"Yeah, I mean, sure, he prefers Slytherins, but he's a decent teacher.

"He completely ignored me!" Hermione protested.

"He spent ten minutes calling me worthless," Neville meekly added.

"He hates Gryffindors!" Ron yelled, earning funny looks from the rest of the great hall.

Fred and George slid down the benches and looked at them with smirks. "Sounds like you lot just had your first dose of Snape," Fred grinned. "Nightmare, isn't he?"

George clapped his brother on the shoulder. "'Course, he doesn't mind us much,"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Snape doesn't mind you? But you're… you're…"

"Pranksters?" George supplied.

"Ne'er do wells?" Fred added.

"Mischievous little toerags?" George said.

"Mum called us that once," Fred reminded his twin.

"One of her better ones, honestly," George replied. "But yeah, you want to know how to deal with Snape?" all of them except Harry nodded. "You have to just not talk. At all,"

"Unless he asks you something," Fred added.

"That way you'll be alright!" George said, and the two of them walked off to their next lessons.

Neville sighed. "So I have to not talk at all. What if I can't get a potion right?"

Harry put his hand on Neville's. "We'll help you out, mate," he said. Neville smiled weakly.

As creepy as the potions room was, the Defence against the Dark Arts room was a whole other level of eerie. Cages filled with live creatures that didn't seem at all friendly. For some reason they all seemed to stare at Harry as he walked in. He rubbed his scar idly, and some of the reptiles in the room hissed at him. He sat down and closed his eyes, meditating for a brief moment. Dragonfang expressed its discomfort, and Harry stroked the hilt from inside his pocket, feeling it calm down a little. The reptiles hissed even louder. He could have sworn somebody was whispering something.

" _Saaaalaaazaaaar…"_ he heard. Dragonfang was almost roaring in Harry's mind, as if there was something he was missing.

"Harry?" his eyes snapped open. He looked around and saw Hermione shaking him lightly.

"What? What's happened?" he said, looking around at the reptiles, who were all still staring at him, albeit silently now.

"You were shaking. Are you alright, mate?" Ron said from the other side.

Harry looked puzzled, then smiled. "I'm fine, thanks though," the door to the classroom opened, and the reptiles looked away from Harry, Dragonfang finally calming down. A tall-ish man in maroon robes and a matching turban walked in, hands clasped in front of him, giving off the impression of somebody incredibly scared.

"W-w-w-welcome to D-defence against the Dark Arts," he said, quivering slightly. "I am Professor Quirinus Quirrell, your teacher," Harry looked at the man and briefly closed his eyes. He let his astral form peer at the timid man for just a moment. He felt something… odd. It was like there was more than one soul inside him, but it still felt like there was only one. Almost like two halves. He stared at Quirrell for a minute more, thinking about what he'd discovered, narrowed his eyes and returned into his body. "Some of your t-teachers may have given you a w-welcome session, informing you w-what will be on the syllabus. However, given how big this subject is, I am going to start teaching you im-im-immediately," Quirrell shuffled slightly. "Open your t-textbooks to page 10, please," Harry opened his book to the page titled _Lumos: the light spell_. "Lumos is o-one of the most popular spells from the 18th century. It is quite simple yet very effective. W-wands out, please," Everyone took out their wands and pointed them to the front. "Repeat after me; _Lumos_ ," Quirrell swished his wand in a loop-the-loop motion, and the tip of his wand lit up like a torch.

" _Lumos_ ," the class repeated. Hermione's wand lit up instantly, as did a Hufflepuff's on the other side of the room.

"Excellent, Miss Bones and Miss Granger! Five points each to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!" Hermione smiled, and Ron frowned.

" _Lumos!"_ Ron repeated, and waved his wand, which this time lit up, far brighter than Hermione's.

"Well done, Mr Weasley! Four points to Gryffindor!" Ron looked puzzled and surprised.

" _Lumos!"_ Harry said, doing the wand movement perfectly. His wand did not light up. " _Lumos!_ " he repeated. Again, no luck. _"Lumos! Lumos! Lumos!_ " each attempt bore the same fruit. Harry groaned in frustration.

One by one, everyone's wands lit up. Everyone, that is, except Harry's. Quirrell came over to him with an apologetic smile. "Don't worry, Mr P-potter, I'm sure you'll get it," Harry looked sceptical. "Tell you w-what, come to my office tonight a-and I'll give you a little extra help, eh-eh?"

Harry smiled, not without suspicion though. "Thanks, sir,"

Quirrell nodded and went back to the front of his classroom. "Well, that'll do for this l-lesson. Y-your homework is to write one foot of p-parchment on the o-origins of _Lumos_. Goodbye, children.

"I don't know why it didn't work, I said Lumos, I did the swish right, everything!" Harry explained to Ron and Hermione. Neville had rushed off to talk to Professor Sprout.

"Well you must have gotten something wrong," Hermione said.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"All I meant is that if you did get everything right, it should have worked," she backpedalled.

"Still, nice of ol' Quirrell to give you help," Ron supplied.

"Sure," Harry said, sounding doubtful. "Does something about him not seem... weird to you guys?"

"Weird?" Ron asked. "Well, he has a lot of animals,

"He did say he went travelling, though," Hermione added. "What do you think is weird?"

Harry shrugged, deciding not to say that his spirit temporarily left his body and sensed two halves of a soul inside their defence teacher. "I don't know. He just feels, off. Eh, it's probably nothing," he shrugged, and the three of them entered the common room. It wasn't nothing.

 **Late, I know. But I've had work, and my A levels are drawing ever closer. Also I got struck by writers' block again. Seriously, I spend two weeks with this open on my screen with only 250 words on it.**

 **Thanks to my amazingly talented buddy Holofroyo (check her out on Instagram) for making my new cover art! I love this so much, and I hope you love it too!**

 **Please continue to review, favourite and follow! Before my 10** **th** **chapter let's try to hit 200 reviews! I'll do my best to answer them all!**

 **See you next time!**


	10. New School: 3

Harry and Ron were hanging out in the Common room, playing wizard's chess. "Pawn to d6," Ron said, moving his pawn another space forward.

"Bishop to d6," Harry said, smirking as the bishop crushed the little pawn.

"Knight to f8," Ron said with his own little smirk, as his knight moved into a checkmate position.

Harry frowned. "Do you ever lose?"

"Not yet," Ron laughed. "Want another game?"

Harry was about to say yes when the clock on the wall chimed 6:00. "Love to, but I've got to go to Quirrell," he grabbed his wand and ran out of the common room into an alleyway, making a sling portal to a quit area near the DADA classroom.

He knocked on the door, which slowly creaked open. "Professor?" Harry called out. No response. "Professor? It's me, Harry," he walked into the office and sat on the chair in front of the desk, spinning his wand in his hand. Something creaked behind him, and he whipped around, searching the room. "Who's there?" he asked, balling his hands into fists. He cast a night-vision spell, and gasped. There, hiding behind a banner, was… something. He couldn't tell what it was, but he knew that it wasn't friendly. He crept around to get a beeline view of it. He locked eyes with it. It snarled and leapt at him, claws ready to dig into his chest. He made a shield between him and the… thing. It roared and slashed at the barrier, making scratches and even some cracks. Harry grunted and pushed the barrier into the creature, forcing it back into the corner. With his other hand he reached for Dragonfang, but grabbed air. "No, no, no!" he groaned, remembering that he'd left it on his bedside table. In this moment of distraction, Harry was smacked in the head by the creature's scaly tail. He tumbled to Quirrell's desk, groaning as he pulled himself up. The creature snarled and began making its way towards him. Harry managed to get a better look at it. It looked like it had a lion's head, a weird reptile tail, and some furry animal's body. 'Why was that familiar?' he thought. It roared again, and Harry snapped back to reality. 'Not the time to think about that,' it leapt at him, claws ready to rip his chest open. He slid under the monster's body, creating another wall, which he used to push the creature to the ceiling on the other side of the room. Grunting, he edged towards the door. The monster snarled and leapt over the barrier. Harry's eyes widened and tried to open the door. It was locked. The creature slashed, and made three long lines down Harry's back. He screamed in pain, then turned and formed a transparent spear, ramming it into the monster's face, then its side, then its chest. He used the spear to spike through the lock, and stumbled out of the classroom, making a sling portal to the Fat Lady. He went into the common room and lay on his bed, facedown, hoping the pain would subside by the following morning.

He woke up two hours later, his back stinging like all hell. He groaned and pulled himself out of bed, thinking back to his study sessions on healing. He got into a meditative position and closed his eyes, focusing on the three scratches. As much as he could, he dulled the pain and cleaned the wound. He'd still feel it, but it wouldn't hurt nearly as much.

The next morning, Harry woke up as normal, got dressed as normal, and went down to the great hall for breakfast, as normal. "Alright, Harry?" Ron said, fiddling with his cutlery.

"How was your study session with Professor Quirrell?" Hermione asked.

"Awful," Harry grunted, shifting slightly to ease a little pain.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, noticing his discomfort.

Harry was about to answer when Dumbledore tapped his goblet with a spoon, getting everyone's attention. "Very sorry to delay breakfast, but we have a small issue to bring up. Last night, Professor Quirrell came to me, telling me that his classroom had been wrecked, with tables and chairs flung across the room and his shelves toppled to the floor. There was also some droplets of blood found by the door. If anybody knows anything about this, please talk to a teacher by the end of the day. You may eat,"

Harry piled bacon, sausages and eggs onto his plate, and began eating rapidly, not looking up from his meal. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "That was you, wasn't it?"

"Hmm?" Harry said, swallowing his mouthful. "That? No, that was the monster Quirrell put in his classroom to try and kill me," he returned to his food.

"Pull the other one!" Ron exclaimed.

"Harry, that's ridiculous! Why would a professor want you dead?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"I don't know, but there was a monster in there and it tried to rip me apart!" Harry sighed. "You're not going to believe me without proof, are you?"

Hermione shook her head, and Ron shrugged. "Sorry mate," he said.

Harry rubbed his temples. "Fine, come to the common room after breakfast,"

"Bloody Hell!" Ron yelled.

"Oh my God!" Hermione yelled.

"Can we stop yelling?" Harry yelled. He'd taken off his shirt and was currently showing them his back scratches.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I'm fine, Hermione. It doesn't hurt," he waved away her concerns.

"Still," Ron said. "Must've been some monster,"

"It was," Harry nodded. "It had a lion's head and some lizard's tail,"

"Wait," Hermione said. "Are you saying that it was a Chimera?"

Harry clicked his fingers. "Yes! It was a Chimera!" he stumbled slightly, and he felt his wounds weep a little.

Ron rushed to his side and steadied him. "Whoa, you need to see Madam Pomfrey," he started to walk Harry to the door, but Harry shrugged him off.

"Stop it, really, I'm absolutely fine," Harry smiled, then collapsed on the floor.

Harry forced his eyes open later that day, feeling himself on a soft bed with some kind of gel on his back. "Where am I?"

"In the hospital wing," someone said, with some level of annoyance. "And a new record, too. Three days and somebody's already in, and a Potter, no less. Why am I not surprised? I'm Madam Pomfrey, the matron," she waved her wand over him and inspected the tip. "You don't seem to have any form of concussion,"

"Concussion?" Harry asked.

"From your fall. Your friends brought you in and told me how you fell down the stairs and cut your back open like that,"

"Oh yeah, it all happened so quickly," Harry lied awkwardly.

"Yes…" Madam Pomfrey said, sounding sceptical.

"Am I alright to go now?" Harry asked, smiling innocently.

"Yes, but be very careful," Pomfrey lightly scolded him.

"Thank you!" Harry leapt out of bed and ran out of the infirmary.

Poppy sighed. "Déjà vu,"

Stephen took a sip of his tea as he was surrounded by three younger men. They conjured golden discs on their hands and jumped at him. He threw his teacup into the air and made lines of energy going between his hands. As one of the men threw one of their discs at him he whipped the lines at the disc and caught it, spinning it around to hit the second one, who tried to pull off a flying-side kick. He pulled on the wires and threw the disc back to its creator, hitting him square in the face. He caught his teacup, threw it up again and spin-kicked the third man. Strange's tea landed in his hand, and he took a sip, sighing. "Three of you against one of me, and not one of you could tag me?"

All three of them lined up and bowed. "Apologies, master," they said in unison.

Strange rubbed his eyes. A sling portal formed next to him, and he sat down. "You're dismissed. I'd recommend learning to make your movements more subtle,"

The three men left, and Stephen took another sip of his tea. "Hey, Harry,"

"Hi, Stephen," Harry sat down and sighed.

"Back so soon?"

Harry chuckled. "I don't really feel welcome," Strange raised an eyebrow. "I got attacked by a monster,"

"You what?!" Strange's eyes widened and he got up.

"I'm fine, really!" he assured. "It got me once, but I beat it,"

Strange breathed a sigh of relief. "How bad did it get you?" he asked.

Harry turned around and took his robes off, revealing his back. "They were a lot bigger before,"

Stephen looked the scratch up and down. "Must've been some monster,"

Harry nodded. "My friends think it was a Chimera,"

"You told your friends that you killed a Chimera?" Stephen face-palmed.

"No, no, I told them that I escaped," Harry rolled his eyes. "I do remember the whole 'don't tell anyone' thing, you know,"

Stephen nodded. "I know, I'm just worried," he ignored Harry's snicker. "So why are you back?"

"Just wanted you to get rid of the wounds. I don't need the hassle, and I could only stop the bleeding," Harry lay on the floor, facedown. "So, you were worried about me?"

"Shut up," Stephen grumbled, beginning the healing spell. "You know what I meant,"

"I know… Dad," Harry snickered.

"You know what, kid?"

"I wonder how Harry is," Hermione whispered to Ron during their Defence lesson. Quirrell was talking about the verdimillious charm, something she had already read about many times. Ron was just disinterested in general.

"He'll be fine, Madam Pomfrey's great, Fred and George said," Ron whispered back.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry walked in, smiling an obvious fake smile. "Sorry I'm late, Professor. I had to go to Madam Pomfrey,"

Quirrell looked up and gasped. "P-Potter! Goodness, I was b-beginning to think you wouldn't show up," he laughed meekly.

"I wouldn't miss your lesson if it killed me, Professor," Harry muttered, taking his seat.

"Where have you been, mate?" Ron whispered.

"In the Hospital wing," he replied, opening his book.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Madam Pomfrey said she let you out an hour ago,"

Harry's eyes widened by about half a centimetre. "Well, umm, I had to go to the toilet, can we talk about something else, please?" Harry pretended to blush and turned away.

"So, as I-I-I was saying, the Verdimillious charm c-can be used to r-reveal objects hidden by d-dark magic, but can also b-be used in a duel,"

The rest of the lesson was spent practising the charm, with Hermione obviously pulling it off first, but with Ron not too far behind. Harry, again, failed to make anything happen at all. The whole time, Harry felt Quirrell's gaze boring into him like… like a spear through a Chimera. Harry grinned as he thought of that analogy. The grin disappeared as he failed yet again to perform the charm. At the end of the lesson, Quirrell yet again extended an offer of help, but Harry shook his head. "Thanks, sir, but I think I'll get it myself with enough practice," he turned and walked away, catching up to Ron and Hermione.

That night, Albus Dumbledore was looking over a letter from Minister Fudge about the break in at Gringotts. He was wondering if Dumbledore knew anything about it. Well, he knew that nothing was taken, because there was nothing there to take. He'd made sure of that. That was when Madam Pomfrey strode in with a sheet of parchment. "Ahh, Poppy. Is all well?" he smiled genially.

"I'm fine, thank you, Albus," she placed the parchment on his desk. "I checked the blood you found on the floor outside Quirinus' classroom, and I've got a match.

Dumbledore frowned, "Surely, Poppy, the spell requires samples of two suspects?"

"I know, I was able to take a sample from a young man this morning,"

Dumbledore read the Parchment, his eye twinkling. "Ah, of course, what did I expect?" he chuckled as he read the page again.

"Mischief runs in their blood, doesn't it?" Poppy moaned. "I'd better not have a repeat of that lot again. I got through one Potter, I doubt I'll survive another,"

 **Thanks for reading! Let me explain the start of this. Harry is not a god. He is someone who is decent at defending Himself. He is not meant to be super overpowered. I know I'm not helping my case, since Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the book, says that only 1 wizard has ever killed a Chimera**. **It will be explained later how Harry won, just bear with. For now, just accept that Harry's monster score is 1 for 1.**

 **Holy Moly, 10 chapters! I didn't think I'd make it! Usually my ideas fizzle out sooner or later, but this one stayed! I owe that to you guys. Your ridiculous amount of support here continues to render me speechless. I'm so glad that there are people out there who enjoy reading my story, and I hope I can continue to make you as happy as you've made me! Thank you all so much!**

 **Please review, favourite and follow for more! Byee!**


	11. New School: 4

Harry wanted to go home. Not because he missed home, no, home was basically the same as here, just wands instead of hands. He wanted to go home because Hogwarts sucked! Seriously, he'd not been here a week, and he was already hated by one teacher, almost killed by another, and to top it all off, he couldn't do anything! Every time he waved his wand, trying to cast a spell, nothing happened. He didn't know what it was, but he was more than sure he was going to fail all his wand-based lessons. Fortunately, that left him with potions, which, to be fair, potions was cool, and Herbology. Oh, joy, herbology. The study of plants. Yay. Of course, as the reader would expect from Harry Potter, that outlook completely changed during his first flying lesson.

A woman with grey spiky hair and yellow eyes strode up to them as they studied their brooms. Ron looked excited, Neville and Hermione looked nervous, and Harry looked like he was about to burst into laughter. Were they really going to fly on broomsticks? Wow, talk about stereotypes.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson. I am Madam Hooch, and I am going to take you through the necessary skills needed for basic flying," she commanded attention without being mean, Harry thought. She reminded him of Stephen a little. "Now, I want you to put your hand over your broom, and say 'up'," Madam Hooch did as she said, and her broom rose into her hand.

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing he'd fail completely at this. "Up," he said half-heartedly. His eyes widened as he felt the handle of the broom in his hand.

"Excellent, Mr Potter! Five points to Gryffindor!" Hooch smiled. Harry was stunned. He'd actually done magic! Hogwarts magic! There was hope!

After a few minutes, everyone had a grip on their broom. Hooch had shown them how to correctly sit on it, and they were about to take off. "On 3," Hooch called out. "1, 2," she was cut off by Neville rising off the floor, his broom speeding up, and its movements becoming more erratic. "Mr Longbottom! Come down here this instant!" Neville was in no position to reply. His broom was throwing him around, threatening to throw him off to the floor. From a hundred yards up, it wasn't likely he'd survive. The broom flew to one of the towers, spinning as its front hit the spire, then the back, and so on. Neville screamed as he fell off the broom, his arm hitting another smaller tower. Harry blanked at this moment. He mounted his broom and kicked off. "Mr Potter, come back here!" Hooch yelled. He ignored her, instead opting to speed up. Neville was dangling on some sort of spear thing protruding from the tower. His robes were just barely holding him up. Harry heard a rip, and Neville began tumbling to the ground. He sped up and grabbed Neville around the waist, a moment before he hit the ground. Flying back over to the group and slowly putting Neville down, who immediately began nursing his arm, he put his broom down and gulped. He was definitely in trouble now. Hooch tended to Neville's arm, and the kids weren't sure whether they should stare at Neville or Harry. Hooch helped Neville up. "I am going to take Mr Longbottom to the hospital wing. If I see anyone," she glared at Harry, "off the ground in that time, I will see to it that you are expelled," as she walked away with Neville's good arm over her shoulder, Malfoy snickered.

"Should've let him fall. Not like his padding wouldn't have kept him safe. The Slytherin kids laughed. Malfoy picked something up off the floor. "Look, he dropped his shoe! So he's fat and a moron!" the slytherins laughed again. Harry glowered.

"Give me the shoe, Malfoy,"

Malfoy sneered. "Or what, Potter? You can't even cast a spell?"

Harry nearly growled and visibly balled his fists. "I don't need spells. Drop the shoe,"

Malfoy went up to him, leering in his face. "Alright, I'll drop it," He took off, his broom pulling him into the air. "I'll drop it on the roof!"

Harry mounted his broom again, but was stopped by Hermione's arm.

"Harry, you can't! You're already in Madam Hooch's bad books! You'll get expelled!"

"I don't care," he replied. "He needs an ego deflation," he kicked off and sped after Malfoy, the wind whipping his hair back. He went level with Malfoy and edged closer to him. "Give me the shoe, Malfoy or I swear to Myrlin you'll be taking the quick way to the ground,"

Malfoy laughed. "Oohh, I'm so scared. Come get it, Potter!" Harry shot towards him, and Malfoy spun around. Harry frowned and shot back. Malfoy saw him coming and threw the shoe towards the Gryffindor tower. Harry sped after it, catching it with one hand right outside Professor McGonagall's office. She looked at him with wide eyes. He blushed slightly and waved, then sped back to the floor. Everyone was silent. He passed the shoe to Hermione then walked away. Right into Professor McGonagall.

"What on Earth do you think you're doing, Potter?!" McGonagall shrieked. Malfoy bit back laughter.

His eyes widened. "You can teleport t- to here from your office?" he bit his tongue for almost saying 'too'.

"Yes Mr Potter, it's almost as if it's magic," she rolled her eyes, the . "Come with me, please," he followed her, all the way to Quirrell's office. "Professor?" she called, getting Quirrell's attention. "Could I borrow Wood, please?" Quirrell nodded, and Harry gulped. Was she going to use a cane on him? No matter, he could dull the pain easy enough. An older boy came out and leaned on the wall.

"Yes Professor?" he said in a Scottish accent.

"Wood, this is Harry Potter," McGonagall said with a taut smile on her face.

"Pleasure," he said, holding out his hand. Harry shook it.

"Wood, I've found you a seeker!" McGonagall almost shook with excitement. "Potter, do as Wood asks, or I may change my mind about punishing you,"

Wood seemed sceptical. "Really? I mean, I know he's James Potter's kid, but is he that good?" he looked up, but McGonagall was striding away.

Harry looked up at him. "What do you mean, 'he's James Potter's kid?'"

Wood smirked. "Your Dad was Quidditch captain when he was here," he looked Harry up and down. "You don't exactly have the build of a Seeker, but we're in dire need, so meet me on the Quidditch pitch tomorrow at 7:00," Wood went back into his classroom, leaving Harry confused and laughing a little. He was imagining Stephen flying around on a broomstick.

Harry was sitting at breakfast when the mail came. He loved the sight of this, all the owls flying in, carrying parcels and letters of varying shapes and sizes. He smiled as hundreds of owls swooped down, dropping mail in front of the students, then raised his eyebrows as six owls swooped in with a long, thin parcel hanging underneath them. All the students gawped at the package, as the owls dropped it… in front of Harry. He sighed. Could he not just have one normal week? A note then fluttered down, landing in his jacket potato. He picked it up and read it silently.

 _'_ _DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._

 _It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Remember to meet Oliver Wood at the Quidditch field at 7:00 tonight._

 _Professor M. McGonagall'_

"It's a broom," Harry said simply. Ron gasped and grabbed the note.

"A Nimbus 2 thousand? That's the fastest model yet!" he looked at Harry, wide eyed. "Let's open it,"

Nodding, Harry picked up the package and made his way out of the Great hall, before he and Ron were flanked by Malfoy and his cronies. Malfoy looked at the package and scoffed. "That's a broom. They'll expel you for this Potter, first years aren't allowed brooms,"

Harry gasped melodramatically. "Oh, no! I've broken the rules! You'd better tell my head of house, right Ron?" Harry nudged Ron.

"Y-yeah, go and tell McGonagall that Harry's got a broom, he'll get into so much trouble,"

"Are you mocking me, Weasel?" Malfoy sneered taking out his wand.

"Calm down, Malfoy, we wouldn't want to make Filch him scrape your blood off the walls, would we?" mocked Harry, who balled his fists.

"You want a duel, Potter? You've got a duel," Malfoy folded his arms. "Crabbe's my second,"

"I'm Harry's," Ron almost spat.

"Alright then, trophy room, ten O'clock tonight. Be there, Potter,"

"See you then," they glared at each other, probably thinking they'd shoot lasers from their eyes if they stared hard enough. Malfoy turned on his heel and strode away, with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Harry looked at Ron oddly. "We're not actually going, are we?"

"We've got to! If we don't, Malfoy's going to call us cowards!"

"You really want me to be in a duel? When I haven't been able to perform any magic without a broom since I got here?"

"Yeah, but… you have to accept the challenge! It's code, or something!"

Harry groaned and facepalmed. "Fine. I'll go to a duel in the middle of the night,"

"You can't!" someone said from behind them. It was Hermione. "You'll lose Gryffindor so many points,"

"If we're caught," Ron said, tapping his nose.

"When you're caught," Hermione retorted.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione, we're not stupid!"

They argued like that all the way back to the Common room. "Let's open my parcel!" Harry interrupted. He lay the package on the table and ripped off the paper, to reveal his Nimbus 2000. Ron gasped. Hermione smiled slightly. Harry was awestruck. It looked amazing! A far cry from the old wonky broom he did his first flight on. The handle was sleek and polished. The bristles were finely held together, straight and narrow. Harry lifted the broom, and marvelled at how light it was. "Brilliant," he breathed, and had to stop himself from climbing on now and flying around the common room.

That night, Harry had his first lesson with Wood. He learnt the basics of Quidditch and saw the snitch for the first time, learning more about his role as a seeker. He was so excited once Wood left him after the lesson, he took off again and began performing stunts and tricks, getting the feel of his broom. Before he realised, the sun had set, engulfing him in darkness. He was in the middle of a double reverse corkscrew when he saw the lack of sun. "Oh no!" he landed and grabbed his Sling Ring, then put it away when he saw how many windows overlooked the pitch. He ran back into the castle, dropping his nimbus into the broom shed on the way. He tried to find a room not being patrolled by Prefects. He went up a couple of flights of stairs and came to a locked door. He put his hand on the lock and tried to create a structure to fit the keyhole. He heard two sluggish feet plonking towards him, and the meow of everyone's least favourite cat coming towards him. He closed his eyes and turned his hand. The door creaked open. He sighed and darted in, reversing the process and taking out his Sling Ring. He stopped. He could have sworn that he heard something growling. He turned around slowly and gulped. He was staring at a giant three headed dog. The middle head bared its fangs, the left head narrowed its eyes and its right head began barking. One of the heads snapped at his legs, and he leaped out of the way at the last second. He made a Sling Portal to the Common room and prepared to jump through, when something caught his eye. The light of the portal was reflecting off of what he could've sworn was a door hinge. One of the heads went for him and he leaped through the portal. He tried to close it, but the head got through as well! It barked, threatening to wake the other Gryffindors up. He kicked its nose, formed a barrier to push it through, and heaved as hard as he could. Eventually, the head went back through the portal, and Harry could close it. He tiptoed up to his bead and collapsed, exhausted.

The next morning, Harry pulled himself out of bed and sat by Ron in the great hall for breakfast. "Morning, Ron," he said, pouring himself a glass of Pumpkin juice.

"Where were you last night?" he glared at Harry. "We were meant to go to the duel!"

Harry slapped his forehead. "I'm sorry, I forgot! I was at practice with Wood, then I was practising flying on my own until sunset," Ron wasn't swayed.

"Where'd you go after that?" he pried.

"I was running around the castle trying not to get caught out of bed by prefects and Filch," he replied, beginning to sound a little exasperated.

"You were out of bed last night?" Hermione, who had just sat down, asked, a shocked and disappointed look on her face. "You mean you actually went to that duel?"

Ron scowled. "No, and that's the problem,"

Harry sighed. "Changing the subject, I hid in a room which had a giant three headed dog sitting on a trapdoor inside,"

Ron looked dumbfound. Hermione rested her chin in her hand. "Is that why I heard barking last night?"

Harry's heart sank. "Uhh, yeah, must've been," he tried to play it off cool.

"How did we hear it from so far away?" Hermione looked cynical.

Harry almost gulped. "It was a really, really big dog,"

"Hmm," Hermione shook her head.

"Besides, Ron, isn't it better that I try to get better at Quidditch so I can humiliate all of Slytherin, rather than just Malfoy, tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber?" Harry asked, grinning. Against her better judgement, Hermione snickered.

"I suppose," Ron said, not sounding convinced.

"Friends?" Harry said, fluttering his eyelashes.

Ron sighed melodramatically. "Friends," he said, tucking into his breakfast. Harry smiled. This school was definitely an interesting place. He might as well stick around for a little longer.

 **What? A consistent update schedule of every 2 weeks? From Ryuko?! Oh my Greek Gods! This is the most amazing thing sine The Dark Knight Returns (look it up)!**

 **I wanted to get this out last week, but exams, and I had to buy lots of cling film for my last day of college pranks, but the bright side is… I'm now off college! In July I am 100% done with all things school for 3 whole months! Imma go to Spain, Imma go to the Harry Potter Studio tour in my Hufflepuff robes, and Imma write like the wind!**

 **Thanks for reading, and remember to favourite, follow and review! Byee!**


	12. New School: 5

**People might not read the Author's notes at the end of each chapter, but please read it this time. Thanks.**

 _Dear Master Strange,_

 _Hogwarts has been… interesting since our last talk. Long story short, I have something amazing to show you soon. You're either going to love it or hate me. I'm part of a school sports team now, and I have my first game in a couple of months, and to be honest, I'd much rather take on Loki and his entire Chitauri army. Seriously, there are magic balls that fly around and try to knock people out!_

 _I've dealt with another monster, believe it or not. This time, it was a three-headed dog. Yeah. I mean, I know there's an optional care of magical creatures later on, but jeez! Chimeras, three headed dogs, what's next, a dragon? I think I'm 2-1 when it comes to monsters._

 _I'm still incapable of performing wand magic. I don't have a clue as to why, because almost nobody else is having trouble. I swear, I am this close to using sorcery to make it look like I'm doing magic. I do not need Malfoy making fun of me for that, especially since I've been attacked TWICE in my first week! However, I'm doing surprisingly well at potions. And I think that my teacher does not like that I'm doing well. In my first lesson he told me off for using a pen instead of a quill and ink._

 _I am 90% sure that my Dark Arts teacher is evil. I mean, he asked me to go to his office, where I then get attacked by a Chimera. The next morning when I walk into his office he seems shocked and disappointed. And there's this whole thing where his soul feels… weird. I mean, it's a soul, but it seems like two parts more than one whole. I wonder if there's a reason. Oh well, I'd better not go looking for trouble… if I can help it._

 _That's everything, I think. I can't wait for your reply. Tell everyone I said hi. Are you still doing movie night? I'd hate to miss out on Wong relating to the Terminator. I'll see you around Christmas, unless I get any more deadly wounds._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Your pupil._

Harry signed the letter and gave it to Hedwig, opening a Sling Portal to Kamar-Taj. Hedwig ruffled her feathers and hopped over to the window of the owlery. "Are you sure, girl? I mean, he's in Tibet," she screeched indignantly. "Fine, enjoy the four day flight," he gave her a pile of seeds Fred and George had bought from the local town for pranking. What they were going to do with said seeds, Harry did not want to know. Hedwig spread her wings and flew off into the distance.

"Potter!" Snape snapped, looking down at Harry. At the end of the lesson.

"Yes, sir?" Harry replied, packing his things away.

"What is this?" Snape thrust Harry's essay from the previous night onto his desk.

"My essay on the ineffectuality of the original boil cure potion's recipe, sir. Did I get something wrong?

Snape growled. "The quality of the essay is not the concern here, Potter. Why is it that you have such a problem with following the most basic of instructions?"

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

"I mean, that I explicitly told you to write one foot of parchment. Not one side of paper,"

"It's still one foot, sir. I measured it," Harry was getting flashbacks to his first lesson.

"That is not the point, Potter," he countered, through gritted teeth. "The point is that you need to learn how to follow instructions correctly. If I told you to jump, the only response I would accept would be 'how high?' not 'I can't be bothered to jump, could I run instead?'"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but decided it wouldn't be the best option. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll use parchment next time,"

"See that you do," Snape replied, returning to his desk. "And five points from Gryffindor for not following instructions,"

Harry nodded and left the room, catching up with Ron. "He's not a fan of paper," he remarked casually. "I lost 5 points, because I didn't write on parchment," he rolled his eyes. "No other teacher has a problem with me using paper,"

"Well, it is Snape, and you are a Gryffindor, so…" Ron reminded him, patting him on the back.

"I know, but it's just annoying," he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Why did you use paper, anyway?" Hermione asked.

"I'd just done Flitwick's essay on paper and wasn't thinking," He shrugged.

Harry went to the Great Hall after a particularly exhilarating morning of Quidditch practice, when Hedwig flew towards him, within a giant cloud of other owls. She perched herself on his shoulder for some reason and looked down at his plate. "What do you want, girl?" Harry stroked her lightly. She gestured towards some toast. Harry sighed and ripped one corner off his breakfast and held it out for her. She ate it contentedly, dropping the letter in her claws onto the table.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Please stop calling me Master. It's bad enough that new students do it, but we've known each other for three years. Just Stephen. Please._

 _I'm a little worried about this secret you're keeping from me. It'd better not be some sort of pranking spell (I don't think Wong would appreciate suddenly waking up with giant ears or whatever you can do). A sports team? Sounds pretty cool. Of course you'd be part of anything that could potentially kill you. I don't know if that's reckless, stupid or both!_

 _A Cerberus? Really? For the love of Myrlin, first off it's a chimera, and now the guardian of the gates of Hell? (And yes, Hell is real. Dante was one of us, and he was obsessed with the afterlife) I'm questioning whether it's safe for you to be at that school anymore. I mean, you can take care of yourself, I know, but I wish you didn't have to. And of course you're keeping score. I think you're insane._

 _If you're struggling, I'd recommend meditation. I know that's a bit of a cop-out answer, but it's worth a go. Try to focus your spirit and guide it into your wand. It'll be difficult, a lot harder than just pushing yourself out of your body, but you'll get it. If you cheat, Wong's going to take away your library privileges. His words, not mine._

 _If your teacher turns out to be evil, I'll introduce you to Christine. I mean, come on, Harry! You said that he's jittery, he's probably just easily frightened. But the soul thing, that's pretty weird. Maybe he got into some sort of accident? The Ancient one once told me that her predecessor's soul got split in two and he was scattered across dimensions, but that's all I can think of._

 _Hamir laughed at your Terminator joke. Wong, as you can probably guess, didn't. Concerning Christmas, you can come home if you want, but no pressure. What are your friends doing?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Stephen._

Harry laughed and folded the letter up, locking it in his suitcase.

Later that day, Harry was flying around the Quidditch pitch with Fred and George pelting Bludgers at him. He was able to dodge most of them, but a couple grazed him every now and then, sending him into a bit of a spin. He groaned, rubbing his arm as another one struck him.

"Don't worry, Harry," Fred said, wrestling one of the bludgers back into the box.

"Yeah, we're the best beaters in the school, so you'll be fine against Slytherin," George said, grunting as the other bludger flew into his hands.

"Wood's right though, my build's completely wrong for a seeker. Wouldn't I be better as a chaser?"

"Build-wise, probably. But you've got a better eye than anyone in Gryffindor, and you're as good on a broom as Charlie ever was," Fred reminded him.

"I'd say he's better than Charlie was at his age," George argued.

"I suppose I'll have to just stay low to my broom, right?" Harry interjected.

George nodded. "Yeah, you'll be fine! With the school's best beaters on your back, you can bet those bludgers will be… uh… Fred?"

"Blown away!" Fred finished.

Harry laughed. "Thanks for this, guys," He returned his broom to the cupboard and made his way back to the common room, chatting with Fred and George the whole way.

 _Dear Master Strange,_

 _I've got a couple of weeks left before my first game, and I'm a complete nervous wreck. I tried meditating, like you said, but all I can think about is what'll happen if I lose us the game, or what if I get knocked out? I think I need some Asgardian liquor._

 _I'm still almost completely useless with a wand. The most I've done is accidentally poke a Ravenclaw kid in the back of the head. Terrence must hate me by now. I am this close to going to the headmaster and asking for special help, but I want to see if I can do anything at all first. Even if it's just making a ball of light, I need something!_

 _My potions teacher has been slightly less of a nightmare than usual, despite an argument we had about me using paper instead of parchment. I've been doing surprisingly well. I'm getting pretty good grades in my essays, and my potions are coming out almost perfect!_

 _So it was a Cerberus, then? Cool. How do you beat a Cerberus? And I'm not surprised about Dante, I've read the books, it seems like something he knew too much about._

 _I can't wait to meet Christine! Seriously, Quirrell's been giving me weird vibes for weeks now!_

 _Ron's staying for Christmas, apparently his parents are going to Romania to see their son who works with dragons. I wonder if they're related to Fin Fang Foom? Hermione and Neville are going home though. I feel like I should stay, if that's alright. I don't think Ron will be able to handle Fred and George without his parents there to tone them down. Tell Wong not to worry though… I'll be back!_

 _Anyways, I'll see you soon!_

 _Harry_

Harry gave the letter to Hedwig and stroked her gently. She cooed, then flew off. He made his way back to the common room and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He sat up and crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knees. In one hand he held his wand. He closed his eyes, and journeyed inwards. He sensed his energy, as eclectic as it had always been, and attempted to mould it, to manoeuvre it where he wanted it to go. Nothing helped. The more he pushed, the more it resisted against him. For another hour he sat there, trying to elicit some kind of reaction from his wand. Instead, it chose to be nothing more than a fancy stick. He got up and went to the library, running into Snape on his way. Snape glowered. "Where are you going at this time of night?"

"To the library, sir," Harry replied, coolly.

"Well you'd better hurry, then," Snape said. "It would be a shame if you were caught out of bed after curfew,"

"I'll be back in time, sir," Harry assured him, then ran off, leaving Snape with an angry look on his face.

He came to the library with 10 minutes to spare before curfew, and rushed to Madam Pince's desk. "Where do you keep your books on wandlore?" Harry whispered frantically.

"In the magical items section, two aisles down on the left," she replied. "And be quiet!"

Harry picked up six different books which seemed like they could be helpful, checked them out and Sling-ringed back to his dorm room. He sighed as he laid back and let sleep overcome him, not bothering to change out of his robes. He exited his body, entering the Astral plane, and picked up the first book, Wandlore: The Art of Crafting the Ultimate Magical Tool, by Alferian Maclir. 

He awoke the next morning and pulled himself to breakfast, half asleep. He was so tired he forgot his socks and his wand. Not that his wand would be much help, he thought groggily. He plonked himself down next to Hermione and poured himself a pumpkin juice. Hermione tutted as he gulped it down, his eyes creaking open a millimetre more. "What?" he mumbled, wiping some of the juice off his chin.

"You're so scruffy," she scolded, folding her arms.

"Sorry, Mum," he rolled his eyes as his nose nearly dove into his beans. Hermione grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him upright, just as Draco and his cronies walked past.

Draco began to laugh. "Oh my God, Potter, you look like a Weasley! Did you sleep in those clothes or something?"

Harry sighed and turned around. "Yes, Draco, because I was busy practising flying on my brand new Nimbus 2000 broom, and after that I was writing an essay which will undoubtedly get a higher grade than yours, just like the rest of them. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish my breakfast and go hang out with my friends who don't just like me because I'm rich. Later, Malfoy,"

"B-buh, yo- th-," Malfoy stuttered, then growled and turned away, muttering something about his father.

Hermione looked at Harry incredulously, and Harry looked back. "Hermione, please, I'm really tired, so can I just have that one?" Hermione didn't say a word for the rest of breakfast. Harry finished his meal and returned to his dorm, quickly forming a makeshift iron once he was sure nobody could see him. He ironed out the creases on his robes, then sat down on his bed rubbing his eyes. He put his wand in his pocket and picked up his back, then moved to pick Dragonfang up from its hiding place. His eyes widened. He scrambled around, trying to find his trusty relic, but it was no use. Dragonfang was gone.

 **Not gonna lie, I'm not super happy with this chapter. It's the best I could write at the moment, but since I have my first A level the day after this goes up, I've been kind of distracted. Regardless, please review, favourite and like.**

 **In the last two weeks, England has been hit with two senseless terror attacks. One at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, and one on the London Bridge. My thoughts and love go out to all the victims who lost their lives, and those who are fighting for their lives in hospital. I want to give my utmost thanks to the emergency services who responded so quickly, and to all the passers-by who ran to give help to the injured people. I love my country, and I know that acts like this will have no effect on the good people of Manchester, London, or anywhere else. I wish nothing but happiness from now on unto the families of those who lost their lives. Nothing can replace a lost loved one, but we must keep calm, keep a stiff upper lip, and carry on, as we British do. My sister was at the One Love Manchester concert on the 3** **rd** **and 4** **th** **of June, and I, like her and everyone at that concert, offer nothing but love and happiness to everyone affected by these events.**

 **Some people might think that I, or anyone in Britain, would have reason now to hate these people, but I don't. And I urge everyone else to not hate them. Ignore them. Hatred is too strong an emotion to waste on somebody you don't like. We've got to live our lives the same way we do every day. Going to school or work, watching TV, laughing at that trending meme, reading fanfictions, playing sports, listening to whatever's in the charts, having fun, every day, in blissful defiance of what these people wish for. They may try again, but they will fail, because nothing can break the indomitable spirit of the human race. No matter how long it takes, the world will one day be peaceful, and they will be little more than a chapter in a history book, a reminder of those people who tried to change the world with violence, when it actually changed with unity, acceptance, and love.**


	13. New School: 6

Harry didn't listen to a single word throughout any of his lessons that day. He spent his breaks looking around the Gryffindor common room for Dragonfang. He didn't eat lunch, instead opting to tear the boy's dorm apart. He tried scouting the school in his astral form, but he couldn't find it anywhere, throughout the whole castle! He sat down on his bed, and put his head in his hands, beginning to hyperventilate. "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" he repeated over and over again. His relic was gone, he didn't know what to do. He opened a Sling portal to the sanctum and sprinted to Stephen's office. He knocked furiously and stumbled in. "StephenDragonfang'sgoneIcan'tfinditanywhereandIdon'tknowwhattodoand-,"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Harry!" Stephen said. "What's wrong?"

"Dragonfang's gone!" Harry replied, his eyes beginning to well up. He clasped his arms around Stephen.

Stephen sighed and awkwardly patted Harry's head. "Hey, it's okay. You'll find it. Have you read _Key of Solomon_?"

"Y-yeah," Harry said between breaths.

"There's a spell in there that can strengthen the connection between you and your relic, do you remember it?" Harry shook his head. Stephen made a small sling portal to the library and took the book. Wong stuck his hand through the portal before it could close.

"Strange, what have I told you about Sling rings?" he did not look happy.

"Sorry Wong, emergency," Stephen smirked then pushed the librarian's hand back through, closing his portal. He gave Harry the book. "Here, give this a read, but make sure Wong gets it back soon,"

Harry looked up at Stephen, eyes glistening. "You're not angry?"

Stephen mock-frowned. "Oh, I'm angry, with the moron who took your relic!"

Harry smiled widely and hugged Stephen tightly. "Thank you so much," he wiped his eyes, and took a Sling-portal back to his dorm. He entered his astral form and began reading, as time slowed to a crawl around him.

Harry had been reading for what felt like hours, as ten minutes passed around him. He read and reread the section on the connection with his relic over and over again, doing his best to memorise it, when he saw a shadow making its way towards the dorm. He gasped and re-entered his body, grabbing the book from where it had landed on his bed and hiding it in his case, as Ron came into the dorm. "Harry, lunch break's almost over, and Fred said he saw you on your way he- Bloody Hell!" Ron yelled as he saw the state Harry's area was in.

"Hi Ron," Harry said, trying hard to sound nonchalant.

"What did you do that for?" he asked, pointing at the veritable pigsty Harry was calling a bed. The sheets were hanging from the curtains, the bedside drawer was on the other side of the room upside down, and the bed itself was pulled three feet from the wall.

"Oh, this?" Harry gestured around him. "I lost something. I was just looking for it," Ron began to laugh. "What's so funny?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"This looks exactly like Fred and George's room back home!" Ron's laughter became more raucous, and Harry joined him. "Hermione told me to tell you we've got Charms now," he grumbled once they'd calmed down.

Harry sighed. "Can I not just look for dr– my thing?"

"Come on, Harry, Charms is one of the easier lessons," Ron pulled him to his feet.

"Fine, I'll go, just let me clean up here and I'll catch you up," Harry picked up his bedside drawer, carried it across the dorm under his left arm and moved it back into place.

Ron's mouth dropped open. "Bloody hell, mate, how strong are you?" Harry shrugged. Ron shook his head, laughing. "See you in Charms," Ron called back as he left.

"I won't be long," Harry shouted. Then he sighed and used a spell to return everything back into place, shoving his case back under his bed and making a mental note to return the book to Wong before too long.

"Professor? Could I borrow you for a minute?" Harry asked, being sure to look and sound as polite and respectful as possible.

"Hm? Ah, of course, Mr Potter! Please, sit down," Flitwick moved a chair to in front of his desk. "How can I help you?"

Harry shuffled in his seat, unsure of how to approach this. "I, um, I lost something, and was wondering if there was a spell or a charm to help me find it,"

Flitwick smiled and rubbed his chin. "Well, there's the modified form of the _Point Me_ charm, which can lead you to it, but that's highly advanced magic. If it's a magical item, you could use _revelio_ to find it, but in Hogwarts its signature would likely be drowned out. I suppose there's _Accio,_ but…" he looked at Harry and sighed.

"What's wrong, sir?" Harry asked, relatively certain of what his diminutive professor would say.

"The thing is, _Accio_ is usually taught in fourth year, and… while your written and theoretical work is astounding, your spellwork, um,"

"Is about as good as a teapot made of chocolate," Harry moaned. He knew he couldn't use his wand for more than a conductor's baton, but this was his last hope.

"Well, if you were to put it so bluntly, yes," Flitwick conceded apologetically. "May I ask why you came to me for this?"

"Well, Professor Snape seems to not like me, Professor McGonagall teaches Transfiguration, so unless she can turn a matchbox into an item finder, that's not too helpful, Professor Sinistra intimidates me, Professor Sprout is always too busy, and something about Professor Quirrell gives me the heeby-jeebies," Harry laughed awkwardly, trying to move away from the fact that he'd basically insulted most of his teachers. "Please help me, sir! I can't afford to lose this thing, it's one of a kind!" he was practically begging by this point.

Flitwick pondered his options for a moment, then looked at his watch. "Well, my next class isn't for another hour, so I have the time… oh, alright then," Harry beamed with excitement and gratitude. Flitwick took out his wand and turned back into teacher-mode. " _Accio_ , the summoning charm is a very complex piece of spellwork which requires absolute focus and dedication. You wave your wand like so, and say _Accio_ , followed by whatever it is your heart desires. For example, _Accio feather_ ," Flitwick incanted, and one of the feathers used as props in the previous lesson flew into his waiting hand. "Alright, now you try,"

Harry exhaled and closed his eyes. He envisioned one of the feathers, every barb, every afterfeather, every molecule he could picture. Raising his wand, he performed the movement just as Flitwick had done before him. " _Accio feather!"_ he said, and waited. One second turned to another. Harry opened his eyes to see… no movement. Not one inch. Harry groaned and thumped his thigh in frustration.

"It's alright, not even I got it on my first try," Flitwick assured him. "Try again. Remember, you have to really want it,"

Harry nodded, then closed his eyes once more. 'Come on!' he thought, 'if I get this, I get Dragonfang back, come on!' he reached inside himself, pulling on everything he had, willing it towards his wand. He started to shake. " _A-Accio feather!"_ he cried, causing Flitwick to cover his ears. His heart lifted as he felt his energy travelling through himself, up his arm and through his wand. A second later, he felt a tickle on his nose. Opening his eyes, he saw a white feather floating down.

"Excellent, Mr Potter, excellent! Congratulations! Ten, no, twenty points to Gryffindor! Oh, I'm so happy!" Flitwick clapped and cheered.

"I did it?" Harry gasped, a smile tearing across his face. Elation welled up inside him, and he couldn't stop himself from hugging his charms professor. "I did it!" he cheered. Finally! He'd figured out magic, and he'd found his way back to Dragonfang.

That night, Harry sat in the common room alone, reading his DADA textbook. Once he was sure everyone was gone, he took out his wand and closed his eyes. He pictured Dragonfang as vividly as he possibly could. " _Accio Dragonfang_ ," he said, pouring his energy into the spell not even sure if it would work on the mystical relic. There was a 30 second pause, then he heard the Fat Lady shriek. He went outside the common room and peered out.

"Are you alright?" he asked the portrait.

"Something hit me!" she said fanning herself with her hands. "I couldn't even see it!" Harry's eyes widened and he closed his eyes, sensing for his relic. There! At his feet! He knelt down and picked it up by the hilt, sighing in relief as he returned inside the common room. Dragonfang expressed its own relief at being returned to Harry.

"I know, I was worried sick!" Harry muttered quietly. The sword conveyed rage. "Yeah, I want to know who took you, too," just then, Percy Weasley came down the stairs with a light shining from his wand.

"Potter, what are you doing still up?" Harry hid Dragonfang behind his back.  
"Percy? I was just reading my textbook," he said, picking up the book as proof. As he did, Dragonfang's blade protruded from behind his back slightly. Percy scowled and strode towards him, snatching the blade before Harry could react.

"How did you get this? This was confiscated yesterday," he scolded.

Harry's face went from shock to rage in a matter of milliseconds. "You took it," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I did. I was checking the dormitory for stray students who were trying to skip classes and it cut me while it was hanging off your bed. I don't know how you got it to turn invisible, but when I touched it I could see it, so I turned it in to the Headmaster," Percy sniffed.

"This. Is. Mine," Harry said through gritted teeth. He balled his fists.

"It is a dangerous weapon and therefore had to be confiscated," Percy turned his nose up, seemingly ignorant of Harry's building fury. Harry wasn't even near Dragonfang, but could feel its rage completely dwarfing his own. "Now, go to bed and I'm going to return this to the Headmaster. Oh, and I'll have to dock 20 points from Gryffindor for this," Harry almost leapt at the elder Weasley, when Percy opened the entrance to the common room and came face to face with Dumbledore, eyes glinting. "Ah, Professor," he said, startled. "I was just on my way to return this to you,"

Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you Mr Weasley," he took the sword from the prefect's hands. "You can go now," Percy nodded and returned to his dorm, looking disdainfully at Harry as he went past. "Harry, would you mind coming with me?" Dumbledore heel-turned as if he were a ballerina, and Harry followed him, looking angry, depressed and shocked.

They walked in almost silence, the only sounds being the tapping of shoes on the floor, and Dumbledore's humming as he walked. They came to a large stone gargoyle, which saluted and slowly spun as Dumbledore went up to it. The Gargoyle revealed a flight of stairs, which the two of them climbed, coming to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore sat down at his desk, and summoned a seat for Harry. "Please, sit down," he said, smiling pleasantly. Harry sat down tentatively. "Would you like a Sherbet Lemon?" he asked, offering a crystal bowl filled with the little sweets to Harry, who shook his head.

"Sir, I can explain," Harry started.

"Oh, I'm more than certain you can, dear boy," he chuckled, his eyes glinting over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "But first I would greatly appreciate it if we could just have a little chat, eh?"

Harry gulped. "What, um, what would you like to know?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Professor Flitwick tells me you succeeded in performing the summoning spell today, correct?"

"Yes, sir" Harry replied.

Dumbledore grinned. "Well, then, congratulations are in order," he popped a Sherbet Lemon into his mouth. "As I understand it, you've been having trouble with the practical side of things, so let's hope this is a turning point for you!"

Harry chuckled nervously. "Let's hope,"

"Besides academic work, have you been enjoying your time here at Hogwarts?"

"Um, yes sir, I feel like I've made good friends and I'm having a lot of fun, especially with flying," Harry grinned.

"Ah yes, you're quite the prodigy on a broom aren't you?"

"Well, Professor McGonagall seems to think so," Harry blushed slightly at the compliment.

"Well, you'd best be careful, we'd hate to see you sustain any serious injuries, though none could rival the one from your first week, I suppose," Dumbledore said, idly sucking on his Sherbet Lemon.

Harry's smile disappeared. "I, um, I suppose so,"

"Those stairs can be quite sharp, can't they?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think they were sharp enough to draw all that blood we found outside the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom, though," Harry laughed nervously. "Harry, be honest with me, I want to help you. What really happened?"

Harry gulped. "You probably won't believe me, sir,"

"Try me," Dumbledore said in a challenging but kind tone.

Harry sighed. "Well, after the first Dark Arts lesson Professor Quirrell asked me to go back to his classroom for a private lesson that night, because I couldn't do the spell. So I went there but he wasn't in. I waited for a while but then I got attacked by a Chimera. I tried to escape but the door was locked," here was the difficult bit, he thought. How was he going to explain unlocking the door? "I must have used magic without meaning to because I tried again and it opened. The Chimera managed to scratch me on the back before I escaped though, and that's how I got hurt,"

Dumbledore showed no signs of disbelief or shock, just slight befuddlement. "Really?" Harry nodded meekly. "Well, that is a little hard to swallow," he chuckled. "But from what you've told me, it sounds like you think Professor Quirrell tried to get you eaten by a Chimera, which sounds a rather odd thing for a teacher to do, don't you think?"

"It does sound weird, I know, but I swear it happened," Harry tried to assure Dumbledore.

"I believe you, Harry. The only question is; how did a Chimera get into school?" Dumbledore popped another Sherbet Lemon into his mouth. "Are you sure you don't want one, Harry? They really are very nice. Muggles are so adept at making treats, don't you think?"

Harry relented and took one little sweet. He had to admit, they were tasty. There was a moment of silence, which Harry broke. "Sir, could I please have my… item back? It really means a lot to me,"

Dumbledore sighed. "Ah yes, your sword. Is this a tooth?" he asked, running a finger down the blade.

"Yes, sir, its name is Dragonfang," Harry admitted.

"Dragonfang? How interesting…" the headmaster placed the sword on the table. "And how did you acquire Dragonfang?"

"I earned it after eighteen months of hard studying," Harry said, with significantly more confidence than he meant to.

"Alright, I didn't mean to offend," Dumbledore held up his hands. "Studying what?"

Harry gulped. He'd have to tread lightly here. "My guardian and I live in a, um, a sort of monastery. And I've been studying the scriptures there since I was adopted. A tradition we uphold is that once you reach a certain level of knowledge, you can choose an item for yourself, a sort of rite of passage,"

"How interesting," Dumbledore repeated. "I consider myself to be a rather worldly person, yet I've never heard of such a tradition. Hmmm,"

Harry looked almost desperate. "Sir, Dragonfang has been with me for over two years, and I've formed a bond with it. It's the only tie I have to home while I'm here. Please, I don't use it, it's just to have, like a paperweight in the shape of a gun,"

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm sorry Harry, but it's a very dangerous weapon. It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I'm worried another student will be hurt by it, like Mr Weasley was when he found it,"

Harry scoffed, forgetting that he was talking to the headmaster. "Dangerous? The spells we fire from our wands can kill people, and you won't let me have a dagger?!" his eyes widened when he realised what he'd said. "I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to-,"

"No, you're quite right, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "It would be silly of me to ignore the comparison," he pushed the sword towards Harry, whose eyes widened with glee and shock. "Don't let me hear tales of you stabbing students, understood?" Dumbledore said with mock-seriousness.

"Absolutely, thank you, sir," Harry smiled as he slung Dragonfang over his back.

"Well then, I believe that's everything. You'd best go to bed now, Harry," Dumbledore rummaged around in one of his drawers and gave Harry a little slip of paper. "Show that to anybody who comes up to you,"

Harry thanked the headmaster and turned to leave. He stopped before he left though, and turned around. "Sir, could I ask you a question?"

"You just did, but go ahead," Dumbledore chuckled.

"Who am I?" Harry asked. Dumbledore looked puzzled. "I mean, everyone seems to know me, and Professor Snape said I was a celebrity, but I don't know why. Have I done something?"

Dumbledore sighed again, and motioned for Harry to sit down. "I'm sorry, Harry, I thought you knew," Harry raised an eyebrow. "The reason so many people know your name is because you saved the world. It's the same reason you have that scar on your forehead," Harry looked shocked, and he rubbed his scar, curiously. "When you were just a baby, there was a war, and the leader of our opponents was called Voldemort. One night he went to your home, for your parents were fierce opposition to him, having defied him many times," Harry looked shocked. This was the first time he'd heard about his parents in a positive way. The Dursleys hardly ever mentioned them, and obviously nobody in Kamar Taj knew about them. "He killed your parents, and then tried to kill you. But for some reason, he couldn't. His curse backfired, leaving you with only a scar. He disappeared that night, ending the war," Harry gasped. An evil wizard tried to kill him, but he beat them? When he was a baby? It was unbelievable! "Everyone in our world knows your name, Harry. You saved thousands of lives. You even have the nickname 'the boy who lived'," Harry sat there, silent. "I understand that this is a lot to take in. You'd best be off to bed now, Harry. Good night," Harry nodded, then left the office. He silently walked through the corridors of the school, flashing the slip of paper when a prefect came up to him, entered the common room, went to his bed, and lay there, silently, thinking over what he'd learned. As he sat there, drifting off to sleep, he was only thinking one thing:

"The boy who lived…"

 **Thanks again for reading! I went into more detail in this chapter, as it was a rather important one for the plot of year one. Next chapter, we'll be getting a certain meme cropping up…**

 **Thank you for all your reviews, follows and favourites! If I haven't replied to you, I'm really sorry, but I've been up to my neck in revision!**


	14. New School: 7

"Hmm," was all Snape seemed to say when he looked into the Gryffindor students' cauldrons. Occasionally he'd cast a spell to stop a particularly dangerous concoction, or berate Neville for being a failure. "You blasted moronic fool, Longbottom! This concoction, if you can even call it that, could have killed us all! Do you even have a brain, or do you lose it as much as you lose that disgusting slimy blob you call a pet?!"

"Speaking of disgusting and slimy," Seamus whispered to Dean, who began snickering.

"Detention, Finnigan!" Snape hissed. He grabbed the cauldron and held it in front of him for the whole class to see. "Can anyone tell me what this dunderhead did wrong?" He scanned the class, conveniently ignoring Hermione's raised arm. "Nobody? Do you all have the same number of brain cells as him?" he asked, pointing his wand at Neville, who flinched something fierce, "Meaning none?"

"Sir, Neville didn't stir his potion for long enough before he added the diced wyvern sinews," Hermione blurted out, rubbing her arm to get the blood flowing again.

"Granger, if I wanted you to answer, I would have asked you, you insufferable know-it-all. 5 points from Gryffindor," Snape rolled his eyes, his nose upturning slightly at Hermione's saddened expression. But then something happened which shocked everyone in the dungeon. He came to Harry's cauldron. The greasy potions master took out a dropper filled with some clear liquid and held it over Harry's mixture. The liquid turned a solid, bright green, and Snape made an 'hmph' sound. "This potion is… noteworthy," he said, holding in obvious frustration. "5 points… to Gryffindor," he forced out, eliciting smiles from the Gryffindors and shocked silence from the Slytherins.

"Thank you, sir," Harry smirked, though kept his voice neutral.

"Class is dismissed. I want a 2 foot essay on parchment, written with a quill and ink," he glared at Harry, "on the practical uses of the forgetfulness potion," Snape banished everyone's potions as they packed up their things and began to leave.

As he exited the dingy dungeon, Harry could have sworn he felt something poking his mind. He entered his astral form for just a moment, to see a thin, wispy line going from Snape's head, and coiling around his, almost like a snake would a mouse. 'Is he trying to read my mind?' he thought, tapping the coil and making it wiggle. He re-entered his body and waved at Snape, who looked as though he'd had an electric shock. He caught up with Ron and put his hands in his pockets, shivering. "Bloody hell it's cold," he muttered. Ron gave him a funny look.

"Really? It's not that bad," Ron replied.

"I guess I'm just used to it being a lot hotter," he said nonchalantly. His eyes widened as he clocked on to what he'd said. "I-I mean," he started, stammering, "Scotland isn't exactly known for being hot, is it?" he laughed, awkwardly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're not half weird sometimes, mate," he leaned in closer. "Tell you what's weirder though; I actually agreed with Snape for once!"

"No!" Harry gasped sarcastically. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, Hermione can get right annoying, can't she? I mean, she just loves how much smarter she is than everyone else, doesn't she?" Ron moaned.

Harry looked unsure as how to respond. "I mean, I don't dislike her, but I guess I can see where you're coming from," Harry didn't realise that Hermione was tailing them, looking completely downtrodden. She huffed, turned heel and walked off. "You're jealous of Hermione, aren't you?" Harry said, smirking.

Ron blushed. "Shut up, mate,"

Harry quickly fell into a routine, and the weeks flew by. He was a little shocked when he saw Halloween pumpkins being suspended around the school. He honestly thought that this was a prank by Fred and George, but apparently no, it really was Halloween already. He made his way to Charms, listening to Ron rant about the Chudley cannons for the ninth time that month. He cast a thought to Hermione, wondering where she was. He hadn't spoken to her in weeks, and truth be told, he missed her company.

"Good morning, children," professor Flitwick said happily.

"Good morning, professor," the class responded in unison.

"I'm very excited for today's lesson, you know," the half-dwarf began. "Since all of you have done exceedingly well over the past few weeks, some of you far surpassing the predicted grades I had for you, I think you're ready for the most advanced magic in the syllabus," there were excited murmurs around the classroom. Flitwick's eyes glinted. "Today, we're learning to make objects fly," the excited murmurs became even louder. "Now, this is difficult magic to perform, so don't feel down if it takes you more than one try," he brought forth his wand. "Remember the wand movement we practiced last week? That was for this; the swish and flick," Flitwick performed the movement. "Alright, all of you try it now," the whole class performed the movement. "Excellent! And enunciate: Wingardium Leviosa," he said, performing the spell and making a globe start floating through the air, as though it had just been filled with helium! Some of the class gasped, Draco smirked, Hermione grinned, and Harry chuckled. Oh, how sad Stephen would be when he realised his flying cloak wasn't special anymore. He picked up his wand. "Now, the charm is harder on heavier objects, so we'll be performing the spell on the remaining feathers," he looked at Seamus mischievously. "Oh, and shall we try to keep the feathers un-exploded, eh, Mr Finnigan?" the whole class, including Seamus, laughed.

"Sorry in advance, mate," Seamus, who was sitting next to Harry, said.

"No problem, mate. I just want to know how you can get an explosion from an unlocking charm!" Harry smiled. He pointed his wand at the feather, then stopped when he heard the beginning of an argument between Ron and Hermione.

"-saying it wrong. Its Win-gar-dium Levi-O-sa, you have to make the 'gar' really long," Hermione looked as though she was pained to even sit next to Ron, let alone talk to him, her weak smile failing to hide her apparent irritation.

Ron was making less of an effort to be cordial. He huffed and puffed his cheeks out. "You do it then, smart aleck," Ron turned his nose up at her.

Hermione sighed and pointed her wand at the feather. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she said, and the feather began to lift up off the desk, floating higher and higher, moving where Hermione pointed her wand. She smirked smugly at Ron, who scowled, even as Professor Flitwick awarded Gryffindor 10 points.

"Merlin's baggy trousers, Harry, she's a nightmare!" Ron groaned.

"Myrlin's baggy trousers?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, come on! She just has to lord it over everyone how bloody smart she is, doesn't she? No wonder she doesn't have any friends!" Ron laughed. Harry chuckled lightly.

"I guess she can be-," Harry stopped as he felt someone brush past him. He saw the bushy hair and tightly clasped bag, and gulped. "Oh no,"

"What?" Ron asked, looking at Harry funnily.

"I think Hermione heard you," he said, a bad feeling rising within him.

"Do you think Hermione's alright?" Harry asked, tucking into an absolutely delicious Halloween meal. "She's not come to the feast,"

"Who cares?" Ron asked, biting into a pumpkin pie. "She's probably just revising for a test or something,"

"Are you talking about Hermione?" the girl next to Harry asked. He recognised her as Parvati Patil. "Padma says she heard her crying in the girls' toilets,"

Harry sighed and looked at Ron, who raised his eyebrows, oblivious. "What?" He said.

"You really don't -,"

"TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!" Harry was cut off by professor Quirrell screeching as he ran towards professor Dumbledore. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!" he stopped, panting. "Thought you ought to know," Quirrell then collapsed. The great hall erupted into screams of terror, mostly from the first and second years. Dumbledore put his wand to his neck and cleared his throat. The entire hall fell into silence.

"Would the prefects please escort their houses back to the dormitories? And could the teachers and head boy and girl join me in the dungeons?"

Percy stood up and marched to the end of the table. "Gryffindors, follow me, please,"

They had almost reached the common room when Harry's eyes widened. "Hermione doesn't know about the troll!" He whispered to Ron.

"She probably found out, she'll be fine," Ron whispered back.

"Ron! She's our friend!" Harry retorted.

"Harry! There's a troll!" Ron said, looking nervous.

"Ron! There's a troll!" Harry shot back, looking excited. "Besides, it's in the dungeons, the teachers are dealing with it. We've just got to get Hermione and get back to the common room. It'll be fine,"

Insert dramatic irony comment here.

They snuck away from the group, hiding in whatever shadows were available, making themselves as small and quiet as they could be. Harry was secretly wishing he could just open a sling portal straight to Hermione. They heard the sound of footsteps nearby, and Ron pulled Harry behind a suit of armour. The footsteps got closer, and Harry instinctively went to clasp his hand around Dragonfang, then remembered that he'd promised Dumbledore he wouldn't take it out of his room. They shrank back as Snape came around the corner ahead of them.

"Why is he not in the dungeons?" Ron whispered.

"He's going to the 3rd floor! Where the dog is!" Harry whispered back.

"What's he going there for?" Ron asked him. "I bet he wants to let that thing loose or something!

"Never mind right now," Harry said after Snape had gone. "I'd rather find Hermione.

They turned corner after corner, before they heard thudding. Ron stood deathly still, the little remaining colour in his face disappearing. A pungent smell reached Harry's nose, and he in place. "So," Ron said in a low voice. "The troll apparently isn't in the dungeons anymore,"

"Is it around the corner?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

"Uh huh," Ron nodded.

Harry sighed, and poked his head around the corner. He gulped, forcing a bit of sick back down, as he saw something so ugly, so monstrous, that anyone, even oh-so emotionless Wong, would probably shy away. It was a hideous troll, 12 feet tall, most of its height being in its ridiculously broad torso. On top of its massive body, was its tiny head, like a cherry on top of a huge pie. Its huge arms dragged across the floor, too long to be held up due to the beast's short, stumpy legs. And, obviously, the massive, wooden club it had grasped in its right hand, clearly too heavy to move without dragging it. The troll thudded through the nearby doorway, scratching its nose.

"The key's in the door, we could lock it in," Ron whispered.

"Would that work?" Harry asked, wishing he could conjure a clothes peg over his nose.

"I dunno, but we've got to try!" He replied, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"Ok, on 3, we'll close the doors and lock it in," Harry breathed deeply through his hand, to block out the stench. "One,"

"Two,"

"Three!" They said in unison, running to the doors, closing them as quickly as possible. Harry turned the key, and the two of them leaned on the door, laughing.

"That went well," Ron said. "Now let's get Hermione," he looked at Harry. "Where did Parvati say she was?"

"The girls' toilets," Harry said. Then the colour drained from his face, as they heard an ear-splitting scream.

"What room is this?" Ron asked, gulping.

"The girls' toilets," Harry moaned, ripping the door open again faster than he thought possible. He and Ron gasped as they saw Hermione, cowering in a corner, the troll looking at her hungrily, as it raised its big club over its head. "No, no, no!" He said, throwing a chunk of rubble at the monster, Ron quickly following suit.

"Oi! Pea-brain!" Ron yelled, seeing that the projectiles weren't working. This got the troll's attention. It turned around, glaring at Ron, who gulped, terrified.

"Move!" Harry yelled, as the troll lifted its club.

Ron leapt out of the way as it brought its weapon down on his previous position. Harry ran at the troll and punched it in its knee as hard as he could. He may as well have been an ant. The brute looked down at him, snorted and kicked him into the corner. Harry groaned as he hit the wall, his ears ringing something fierce. The troll advanced on him, waving its club menacingly. Ron yelled at him, but his words literally fell on deaf ears. The troll swung its club down at Harry, who just managed to form a small shield on his right arm. The club met his golden-orange barrier, sending sparks flying from the point of impact. The shield sputtered, flickering slightly. The troll lifted its club up again. Harry managed to slip his sling ring onto his spare hand. The club slammed against his shield again, forcing Harry to his knees. The shield completely disappeared, then reappeared after half a second. Harry yelled at Ron. "Do something!"

"W-what?!" he replied, a mixture of shock and fear in his voice.

"Anything!" Harry shouted back, as the troll bludgeoned his barrier again. It completely disappeared. Harry fumbled to make another shield, but the troll broke through it easily. Ron took out his wand and pointed at the troll, performing the first spell that came into his mind.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" He yelled, and the troll's large club floated into the air. Harry scrambled out of the corner of the room, moving to stand next to Ron.

"Can you distract it for a bit more?" Harry asked, hurriedly, quickly opening a sling portal to his bedside table. He leaned through and ripped open his top drawer, grabbing Dragonfang from its anti-Percy hiding place. He brandished it, getting re-used to the feeling of it in his hand and connected to his mind. It expressed its excitement at finally being used.

'I know, just let me wield you, okay?' Harry thought, and smiled as it let him know how miffed it was about being forced to completely wake up.

"What the bloody hell is that?!" Ron shouted, losing focus. The club, which the troll had been angrily trying to rip it from the sky, like a child being bullied by a taller child, who was holding something just out of reach, fell to the floor at the troll's feet It picked the massive weapon up and ran for them. Harry grimaced and ran at the troll, holding Dragonfang ready.

Harry leapt, Dragonfang raised over his head. He buried the blade in the troll's forearm. The brute roared and whacked him in the face with its other hand. He heard Hermione yell, and saw blue balls of fire flying into the troll's tiny face. He turned and hazily saw Hermione holding her wand out, shooting the fire at it. Ron then lifted his own wand, and began making bits of rubble and pipe shoot up into its chin. It groaned and held its hand over its face, trying to protect itself. Harry put his legs on the troll's massive belly, heaving to pull his sword out of the ugly thing's arm, and flipped down to beside his friends. The troll seemed to have gotten used to the pain, and roared louder than ever, several burns and grazes dotting its face. Its very angry, very scary face. It's massive club rose into the air faster than before, too fast for them to get out of the way. Harry made the strongest shield he possible could with the second and a half he had. It was strong enough, no doubt, but the moment the club met the shield, Harry heard something pop, and he felt like his arm had set on fire. He dropped Dragonfang

"AAAAAAAAARGHHHH!" He screamed, pushing his shield against the monster, and it stumbled all the way to the other side of the room. Harry, eyes filled with pain and rage, formed a transparent spear in his left hand, throwing it as hard as he could. The throw was clumsy; between the pain of his arm and the fact that he was definitely not left handed, but it struck the troll right in its massive belly. It roared in pain and anguish.

"Is-is it… dead?" Hermione asked.

Harry picked Dragonfang up and walked over to the troll. It sniffed, then roared, looking like it was about to head butt Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and buried Dragonfang into the stupid thing's face. "It is now," he muttered.

In the next 20 seconds, Harry went from feeling energised, to feeling awful. First, his adrenaline rush wore off, and he instantly felt fatigued. Also, the searing pain in his arm became even worse as the full effect of the injury hit him. Next, apparently Hermione had thrown up on his shoes. "Sorry," she muttered. "You're covered in blood. And the smell,"

Harry was about to mutter that it didn't matter, when the third reason he felt terrible turned up. That being every single teacher at Hogwarts appearing in the doorway. Harry stood next to Hermione and Ron, cradling his broken arm with his good one. Professor McGonagall saw Harry, his robes bloodstained, his shoes vomit-covered, a curved sword lying by his feet, and his arm dislocated, and went red. She saw the state of the bathroom, and went even redder. And then she saw the troll's corpse. She was as red as the sun is bright. Harry, Ron and Hermione shrunk back slightly under her steely gaze. "What… How… Explain!" Was all she could get out. Her eyes were fixed on Harry.

Harry was about to open his mouth to reply, when probably the most unbelievable thing to happen that day happened. Hermione answered. "It's my fault, professor," she said quickly. " I heard about the troll and thought I could handle it, you know, because I'd read all about them. the troll was probably about to kill me when Harry and Ron showed up. They saved my life, professor," Hermione's eyes welled up with tears. Harry would be asking her how she was able to cry on cue later.

McGonagall's lips thinned, but she became slightly less red. "Well, miss Granger, I'm afraid that 5 points will be taken from Gryffindor for this… almost fatal lack of judgement. Now go to bed, I would like to have a word with Mr Potter and Mr Weasley,"

Hermione shot them an apologetic and thankful look, then scurried off.

"Professor, I can explain," Harry began.

"I should very much hope so," Snape drawled, though he didn't seem as vindictive as usual. " I for one would very much like to know how three first year students managed to kill a fully grown mountain troll," Harry felt a weird, tingling sensation again, and stepped out of his body for a moment. Again, there was a thick line, coiling around his head and going to Snape. He unraveled the coil and re-entered his body, pleased to see a look of mild shock on Snape's face.

"Well, umm," Harry began. "We, uh, followed Hermione here to stop her, but the troll had her cornered. Ron started throwing stuff at it to distract it, and I jumped onto it,"

"Using your sword, I presume," Snape sneered, his cool mostly returned. "The one Dumbledore told us you were allowed to have, if only keep in your room. Why exactly, did you have it on your person?"

Ron must have seen Harry's worried expression and understood because he cleared his throat. "I heard my brother saying that Harry had a sword, so I asked him if he could show me before the feast. He went to get it, and I went to the library to do your homework, sir,"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. Lucky, too, because I, uh, well," he gestured to the dead troll.

"But it wasn't all him though!" Ron said quickly, seeing all eyes turn to Harry. I lifted its club with the levitating charm, and sent loads of rubble into its chin,"

McGonagall didn't know whether to feel impressed or enraged. "Well then. I believe some point calculations are in order," Harry and Ron gulped. "Firstly, since both of you disobeyed professor Dumbledore and ran away from your house prefect, you will each lose Gryffindor 5 points," they looked downtrodden. "For carrying a weapon around school that professor Dumbledore has told you to keep out of sight in your room, Mr Potter, you will lose Gryffindor 5 more points," Harry felt a tightening in his chest. "Mr Weasley, you have cost Gryffindor 5 more points, for casting spells in the hallways outside of a lesson,"Ron went pale. "And finally, you have each earned Gryffindor 50 points," their eyes lit up suddenly, "for ridiculous bravery, saving the life of a fellow student, and for having enough blind luck to kill a mountain troll and live to tell the tale," Harry could have hugged her. If she wasn't his teacher. And many years older than him. "Now please take Potter to the hospital wing, Weasley, and then go to bed," Mcgonagall's lips thinned again. "And clean yourself up, Potter, you look filthy,"

Harry and Ron made their way back to their common Room, when they saw Hermione leaning on a statue, apparently waiting for them.

"I just wanted to say," Hermione began, but Ron cut her off.

"Hermione, I'm really sorry," he said. "About those things I said. I didn't mean it, really,"

"You just saved my life, I don't care about that anymore!" Hermione said, sounding surprised. "I think being saved from a giant monster forgives a few insults!" she turned on Harry and folded her arms. "Speaking of which, I think there's something you should tell us, Harry,"

Ron turned as well. "Yeah. Question 1; what the bloody buggering hell was all that?!"

 **So… This is awkward. I'm sorry it's been so long, but I've spent most of my time working my tripled shifts at work or completely plastered, celebrating my freedom from exams. A few things I have to say:**

 **Thank you for all your support with this fic. I'm so humbled that people actually like my writing, and people asking me questions and giving suggestions has constantly been inspiring me, so thank you. So much.**

 **Happy 20th birthday, the Harry Potter series! Yeah, makes you feel old, doesn't it? Well, I've celebrated by forcing my dad to read the Philosopher's stone, (I'm not apologising, American readers, your copies of book 1 are flat out wrong) and he loves it! I've made a potterhead out of a 60 year old!**

 **Congrats to Jodie Whitaker! I can't wait to see what a woman Doctor is like! Seriously, how can people be sexist in 2017?! If you don't like the one promo pic we've had, then feel free to not watch Doctor Who next season.**

 **I'm worried that my fic is becoming canon fodder. That is, an almost exact copy of the hp canon. I'd love suggestions on how to switch things up. I mean, I know that it's going to change drastically as I get further into the story, but I don't want my fic to be boring before that point.**

 **That's all! Thanks a lot for all reviews and favourites! Next update will be the Tuesday after next.**


	15. New School: 8

**Late, I know, I was working, blow me.**

"I don't really know where to start," Harry said as Ron and Hermione took him to the hospital wing, eyeing him with a look of suspicion and curiosity. "Well, um, that was… Sorcery," he felt like he'd let Stephen down. Ron looked unimpressed, and Hermione looked confused.

"Do you mean high-level magic?" Hermione asked slowly. "Because I've never read about anything like what you did,"

"No, no, it's not magic," Harry said, unsure of how to describe it. "Well, I guess it is, but not Hogwarts magic,"

"What do you mean, not Hogwarts magic?" Ron said.

"Well, it's completely different. I don't know how, I haven't been studying it for long, about three years," Harry paused. "What I do know… Is that muggles can learn it,"

Ron's jaw dropped. "What?!" He shouted. "Muggles can learn magic, er, sorcery?" He began to laugh. "Blimey, Dad's going to love this, he works for the ministry of ma-,"

Harry's eyes widened. "No, no, please, don't tell anyone!" He waved his good hand. "Hagrid told me about how some wizards don't like muggleborns. What happens if wizards find out that any old muggle can learn magic?"

Hermione sighed, still amazed. "How does it work?" they started going up some stairs.

Harry laughed, wincing slightly. "It's really complicated. I, um, from what Stephen, that's my guardian, said, I think you're meant to draw energy from other dimensions, parallel worlds, or something,"

"Harry, other dimensions are just theories, not even that," Hermione said, as if it was obvious. "It's quite hard to believe, is what I mean,"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, we are in a school that teaches people magic, and we just killed a troll, and you think other dimensions are hard to believe?" He raised an eyebrow.

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, then stopped, thought, and closed it again. "Right, sorry. Where do you learn it? And how?"

"Well, I've been living in Tibet for the past 3 years, in a monastery," he explained, deciding to just go all the way. "We call it a sanctum,"

"Tibet?" Hermione exclaimed, looking really disappointed.

"But there's a sanctum in London as well!" He assured her. "It's a bit shabby, it got destroyed a few days before Stephen adop - took me in," Harry suddenly became very interested in his broken arm. It was right now when he realised how awkward he felt about that particular subject.

Ron seemed to pick up on this. "I just thought; you couldn't do magic that well, could you? Um, no offence, mate,"

"Its fine," Harry smirked at the dig.

"Did that, you know, have something to do with your, um, sorcery?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, it did," Harry nodded. They turned a corner. "I can't think of how to explain. Um, I guess it's like, imagine I'm ambidextrous,"

"Can use one hand as well as the other," Hermione explained, seeing Ron's confused expression.

"Sorcery is my right hand," Harry continued. "And Magic is my left. Since I've been using my right hand, I can't use my left hand as well, I'm out of practice. So I needed to get used to using my left hand again," he clicked his tongue.

They both seemed to follow his explanation, which made him glad he didn't have to explain it again. It looked like they were about to bombard him with more questions, so he was a little relieved when he saw the door to the hospital wing.

When madam Pomfrey saw him, covered in troll blood, robes tattered and arm broken, she nearly screamed. "Merlin's beard! What on earth happened to you?"

"Killed a troll," Harry muttered.

"What was that?" Pomfrey asked. A vein throbbing in her head.

"We killed a troll," Harry repeated, louder. Madam Pomfrey almost fainted, then shook her head.

"I've dealt with worse. Much worse,"' she grumbled. "Right, come lie on this bed, Mr Potter," as Harry laid down, Madam Pomfrey turned on Ron and Hermione, examining them, then taking 2 phials from her apron. "Drink these and get some rest. Go on, now, off to bed,"

"But Harry-," the both of them began, but were quickly cut off by the matron.

"Is my patient, and I would very much like to treat him, if you don't mind. Now go to bed before I call for the headmaster," she scowled, and began muttering as Ron and Hermione left. "A troll, inside the school. How many monsters does that man want to bring here?" she tutted and took out a potion in the shape of a skull. "Drink all of this and sleep. The first ten minutes will be very painful, as your bones get back in the right place,"

Harry struggled to get up. "Madam Pomfrey, please. I'll be fine. I just need a cast, really!"

Madam Pomfrey scoffed. "Mr Potter, I know what I'm doing. If this were just a minor fracture, I'd have it fixed in an instant," she raised an eyebrow at him. "Unfortunately, your arm is completely out of its socket at the shoulder, elbow and wrist, and every bone in the arm has at least a hairline fracture. Very difficult to mend indeed," she looked at him accusingly.

"I didn't break it, the troll did!" Harry replied, indignantly.

"And who's idea was it to fight the troll?" she shot back, popping the cap off the skull bottle and handing it to him.

"If I hadn't, you'd be dealing with the gooey puddle formerly known as Hermione Granger!" Harry waved his arms, then winced in pain, taking the bottle with a resigned look on his face. He took a swig, and retched. "Oh, it tastes like a dragon's foot smells!"

"If you'd rather have a mangled, worthless right arm for the rest of your life feel free to not drink it," Madam Pomfrey said, smirking as he gulped and downed the whole bottle. "You're a lot like your father, you know," she said, wistfully. Harry's eyes widened at the mention of his father. "Yes, he was in here a lot too. Reckless, defiant, cocky," she laughed lightly. "But fiercely loyal to his friends, willing to do anything for them. And brave to a fault, just like you. You know, you look almost exactly like him. Except for your eyes, you have your mother's eyes," Madam Pomfrey tutted after a short pause. "He was in here so often, they were on first-name terms with me before the end of their fifth year, Him and Siri – him and his group of friends," she looked away, a pained and angry expression flashed across her face, then she shook her head. "Now get some sleep, Mr Potter. The potion works best when you're relaxed,"

"Th-thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said. He lay back and closed his eyes, thinking on what he'd just been told. There was no chance of him sleeping that night. It wasn't the gruelling pain of his bones being reorganised, or the aftermath of having just killed a troll that made his mind race. He'd just learned more about his father than he had ever done with the Dur – Them. In his mind, he pictured himself, but older. He lay awake well after midnight, and didn't realise he'd fallen asleep until he woke up the next morning.

Walking through the corridors towards the Gryffindor common room was even more awkward than it had ever been. Harry groaned as someone came up to him for the ninth time and asked if it was true that he killed a troll. Oh, how he wished he could just sling ring back, but wherever he went, there was someone there to witness him do it. He kept his head down and tried to walk in the shadows, but the blood and stench on his robes was a dead giveaway as to where he was. He muttered the password to the fat lady and slinked through the portrait hole. Immediately his head began pounding, as dozens of Gryffindors began cheering and clapping.

"Make way! Make way for the Trollhunter!" Fred and George crowed, nudging people to the sides to make a gangway for him.

"Nice one, Harry!" Seamus laughed, clapping him on the back.

"Brilliant!" Dean said, still clapping.

"Sorry mate," Ron muttered when he saw Harry's abashed look. "They were going to find out anyway,"

"S'alright," Harry replied, making his way to the dorms, when he walked into a scowling Percy.

"I hope you're happy," Percy chided.

"Scored some points for Gryffindor, saved my friend's life. Yeah, I'm pretty happy," Harry replied, trying to push past the prefect, who was still scowling.

"What do you think you were doing, running away from me like that? I am a Gryffindor prefect, and-,"

"So if you didn't want me to run away, you should have been watching me," Harry shot back, rage building. And what I was doing was telling Hermione about the troll so that she didn't die. I didn't, as you probably think, say to Ron 'hey, I bet we could kill that troll. D'you want to try to kill the troll?',"

"And you had your… weapon in the halls. Professor Dumbledore told you that that thing needs to stay in the dormitory if you're allowed to have it, which I still thoroughly disagree with, yet I respect rules enough to not disobey the headmaster!" Percy folded his arms.

"Come off it, Percy," Ron stood by Harry. "If Harry didn't have the, uh,"

"Dragonfang," Harry supplied.

"Yeah, if Harry didn't have Dragonfang, me and Hermione would be troll poo by now!"

"He's telling the truth, Percy," Hermione said from one of the big armchairs. "The troll would have killed all of us if Harry didn't have it,"

Percy's scowl grew, and his face turned as red as his hair. He and Harry glared at each other for a solid minute of pure silence, before Percy said, through gritted teeth, "I've got my eye on you, Potter," and let him pass.

The day that followed was one of Harry's least favourite so far. He started with double potions, meaning Draco and the Slytherins snickering at him non-stop, and all the Gryffindors pelting him with questions whenever they got the chance. Snape, however, was uncharacteristically non-insulting towards Harry. In fact, when Harry asked a question about the brewing process of an anti-blister potion, all Snape did was roll his eyes. Harry was expecting a snide comment about his parents, but no. Was Snape softening? Even stranger was that by the end of the lesson, Gryffindor had only lost 27 points, a record low according to Fred and George. Next came Defence against the Dark Arts, and Quirrell was just a nightmare. He could barely speak, his stutter was so pronounced! And on top of that, Harry felt like he was being stared at the whole time. As always, the bloody lizards were hissing at him as he walked past them, and Quirrell's gaze seldom left him. And then of course, the whole time Ron was asking him question after question whenever he got the chance between lessons.

"Can you turn mud into gold?"

"Probably, I'm not that advanced yet,"

"Can you fly?"

"Not without a broom or a relic,"

"Is Dragonfang a relic?"

"Yeah,"

"How many relics are there?"

"Thousands,"

"How do you make one?"

"Nobody knows, they just show up,"

"What do they do?"

"They hold power too strong for a human body,"

"So this 'come here' place," Ron began.

"Kamar-Taj," Harry corrected in a hushed voice.

"Right, yeah. Is it hidden, like Hogwarts?"

"I mean, sort of," Harry replied. "We're not in the middle of nowhere, sanctums are on, like, busy streets. We're just not going around saying 'look at me, I can teleport and control the world around me!'"

"Fascinating," Hermione said, making Harry and Ron jump.

"Bloody hell, how long have you been there?" Harry yelled, turning heads.

"Since we left Professor Quirrell's classroom, obviously," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Hide your Gryffindor badges, Snape's coming," Ron said, gulping.

Snape glided towards them, a smirk on his face that seemed to say 'I've got you again'. He cleared his throat. "5 points from Gryffindor, Potter, for shouting that vulgar language for everyone to hear,"

Harry was about to protest, then he clocked onto the fact that Snape had yet to open his mouth. He turned around to face the source of the smarmy voice, and came face to face with Percy Weasley. "Really?" Harry said, incredulously.

"Really," Percy folded his arms. "And if I hear that sort of language from you again, I'll see to it that you are put in detention," he turned around, his cloak swishing, and fell in step with a nearby Ravenclaw prefect.

"Merlin's saggy left…" Ron began, rolling up his sleeves.

"Smarmy, vindictive, insufferable little…" Harry said, taking out his wand with one hand and gripping Dragonfang's hilt with the other.

"Boys!" Hermione scolded them.

"Come on, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed.

"He's a prefect. Even if he reacts completely irrationally and takes away points from his own house, he's perfectly allowed to do so," Hermione sighed, and the two boys could clearly see frustration in her eyes, clearly directed at Percy.

The clock struck midnight, and Harry was floating around the castle in his astral form. He glided over Filch for a while, then flew towards the great hall, and shot straight through a pale white body with frills on the neck and wrists. "Goodness me!" the figure shrieked as its head hung off one side. "How very ru- oh my goodness!" the Gryffindor house ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, turned around and gasped. "Harry Potter! Did that troll kill you? I never thought you'd be the type to stay in this world!"

Harry just got over his shivering, and his translucent cheeks burned red. "Oh, no, I'm not dead. It's just… secret magic I found in a book," he gulped, hoping the ghost would believe him.

"Really?" Nearly Headless Nick stroked his chin suspiciously. Harry shifted in the air. "How fascinating!" Nick exclaimed and began laughing.

"Please don't tell anyone, it's a little advanced, and I've been in the limelight enough as it is," Harry's hands clasped together behind his back.

"Hm? Oh, of course, I completely understand! I never was one for fame or excitement, myself. Imagine my surprise when I find out that Peeves resides here with me. Why, he just pulled an incredibly unfunny practical joke near the entrance to the dungeons involving Sir Cadogan's painting and a basket of tomatoes. You can imagine," Nick shook his head, tutting as he floated away. Harry smiled, then had an idea. He flew to the entrance of the dungeons, and hung above the door for a few seconds, until he heard familiar cackling.

"Oh Peeves!" Harry called in a singsong voice. "Where are you?" there was a few seconds pause, then harry felt a ball smack him in the face, covering him in weird ooze.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaa!" Peeves guffawed, appearing in front of him.

"Hiya Peeves," Harry waved, wiping some ooze from out of his eyes.

"Hello, ghostie firstie Potty! Not meant to be out of bed, tell Filch I should," Peeves mockingly waggled a finger.

"Peeves, could you do me a favour? I feel like you'd be good at it," Harry smirked as Peeves looked at him curiously.

"What could Peevsie do for firstie ghostie?"

Harry grinned, almost evilly. "Well, there's a prefect called Percy Weasley…"

 **Well, this will be my last update before I move out. I'm going to university! I hope everyone got the results they needed, or at least got in through clearing. I'll be going to De Montfort Leicester. Any readers who go there? I'd love to see if anyone's my age, and where they're studying.**

 **A lot of you picked up on a little hole I had where Harry's arm broke and McGonnagall didn't send him to the hospital wing. Thanks a lot, I'm an idiot, and I've fixed it. Yay(!)**

 **Thank you all for your continued support. If I haven't replied to you, just say so in a review, and I will. But, same as usual, review and I'll try to reply. Every favourite and follow keeps the evil, hyperintelligent dolphin hidden in my top drawer from taking over my brain and drinking the blood of my family in order to repopulate its dead race! Bye!**


	16. New School: 9

**Explanations for lateness at the end. Pls read AN.**

Walking around Hogwarts that next day was… eventful, to say the least. You can tell if a day is going to be good at Hogwarts by what the first thing you see is after breakfast. If that thing is Snape with a scowl on his face the size of Bristol, then that day will probably suck. If, however, that thing is a Gryffindor Prefect covered in feathers and crushed up macadamia nuts, that day is likely to be a very, very good day. Percy's face was redder than his hair, not that you could tell through the feathers. "PEEVES!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, then stormed away, a Ravenclaw prefect following him and taking her wand out. Once he was gone, Harry burst into laughter, doubled over to ease his aching sides.

Stephen's sides were on fire. How the hell had Mordo found him? The bastard had jumped him and jabbed knives into him. He parried a kick from his ex-ally and retaliated with a small ball of energy to blow him back. He winced as he lifted a huge chunk out of the ground and threw it at Mordo, who leapt over it and slashed at Stephen with the Staff of the Living Tribunal, the magic staff extending and crackling with energy. Stephen leant back limbo-style to dodge the weapon, and rolled to one side to avoid a flying axe kick from his enemy. Mordo was whipping the staff around like a whirlwind, striking Stephen maliciously, the sorcerer supreme only being able to block a handful of the attacks.

"This is pointless, Strange! Submit, and I will let you live!" Mordo yelled over the sound of crackling energy hitting Stephen's shield.

"You're insane!" was all Stephen could say, before Mordo struck him across the face with the staff, sending him flying backwards. He coughed, spewing blood all over the bricks of the courtyard floor. He looked over to see the unconscious forms of Wong and Hamir, slumped over next to pillars. Pulling himself up, he formed two discs on his hands and prepared for another onslaught.

"You call me insane? Insane because I see the truth? Kaecilius, the Ancient One, too many unworthy people abuse this gift for their own selfish desires, bend the natural world to their will, and you call me insane?" Mordo struck at Stephen again and again with his staff, fewer and fewer attacks being blocked.

"Yeah, I do," Stephen panted. "You know why? Because I know a kid, not even 12, who is ten times the sorcerer you are," He parried a blow. "He's not as strong as you," he ducked under another attack. "Or as smart," he formed Eldritch whips and caught the staff. "But you know what he does have that you don't?" he leapt and spun in mid-air, ripping the staff out of Mordo's hands. Manipulating the cloak of levitation, he flew at Mordo and grabbed him by the neck. "He's humble," the Sorcerer Supreme lifted his adversary up and kicked him in the chest, following up by forming two Tao Mandalas and tossing them at him. They struck him in the torso, breaking ribs. Mordo panted. Surreptitiously taking out his Sling Ring, he glowered at Stephen. "Not once since this order was created has a child been taught our ways. You dishonour us, Strange," Stephen leapt at Mordo, who simply created a Sling Portal and leapt through, closing it too quickly for Stephen to follow. "I will find this child, Strange, and I will kill him," he said before the portal fully closed.

"I am going to kill him!" Percy seethed as he cast any number of removal charms.

"It's really not that bad, Percy," Penelope, the Ravenclaw prefect, assured him.

"Not that bad? Not that bad?" he said incredulously. "MY HAIR AND ROBES ARE BRIGHT PINK!"

"I-I know, but," Penelope began.

"But what? Really, but what? It's not been like this for two minutes, and somehow there's already chants of 'Princess Percy'!" the Gryffindor prefect scowled, enraged and mortified.

"Excuse me for trying to help you, then!" Penelope turned on her heel and walked toward the door.

"No, please don't go, I'm sorry!" Percy called out, desperate.

Penelope sighed. "I'm going to get a teacher. Professor Flitwick will be able to fix this,"

"Thank you, Penelope. Really," Percy hugged her tightly, making her blush.

"Thank me at Hogsmeade," she winked and left the bathroom.

"What do we have next?" Harry asked, a smile on his face.

"Transfiguration," Hermione replied, then looked at him. "What are you so happy about?

"Percy!" he and Ron said at the same time.

"Did you see his face?!" Harry laughed.

"I didn't know Peeves could even do that!" Ron added, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder to steady himself.

"How can you laugh at that? It's horrible!" Hermione looked aghast. "Poor Percy,"

"Poor Percy?" Harry repeated. "What? He punished me for something wrong HE did, then punished me for saving YOUR life, then punished me for something that literally only SNAPE would punish me for, and you're saying Poor Percy?"

"Hello, Mr Pottie!" a voice said from above them. They looked up and saw Peeves holding a supposedly filled bucket. The poltergeist saluted with his spare hand.

"Hello, Mr Peeves!" Harry saluted back. Peeves blew a raspberry and floated away.

"Harry," Hermione started, suspicious. "What was that?"

"That was Peeves, Hermione," Harry said slowly. "He's a poltergeist,"

"You know what I mean!" she snapped, irritably.

"He's my friend," Harry said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?" Hermione screeched.

"Brilliant!" Ron laughed. "Fred and George'll be so jealous!"

" _Flintifors!_ " Harry's wand movements were perfect, he had accounted for the weight of the needle, and his concentration was unwaverable. What was the needle not turning into a bloody match! He looked over at Ron in-between attempts, and saw that he had managed to turn his needle a light beige colour. Looking to his right, of course he saw Hermione holding two matches and a needle she was currently working on. He scowled, then returned his attention to his own, unchanged needle. " _Flintifors,"_ his wand moved gracefully through the air, every aspect of his spell being perfect. However, his needle remained needle-y.

"I believe we are out of time. 5 points to everyone who has managed to fully transfigure their needle into a match," Professor McGonnagall said, wiping her chalkboard clean and summoning the needles and matches into a box on her desk.

"Professor, could I borrow you for a minute?" Harry asked, packing his notepad and pen (take that, Snape) back into his bag and going up to McGonnagall's desk.

"How can I help you, Mr Potter?" she asked, straightening a pile of parchment, and a few sheets of A4 paper courtesy of Harry.

"I was wondering if you could give me some help with my Transfiguration," Harry replied.

"Well, Transfiguration is the most difficult strand of magic, therefore success will take time and hard work,"

"I know, but I can't do anything! Ron got his to change colour, Dean turned the tip of his into the fuel stuff, and Seamus actually managed to set his on fire!"

McGonnagall's mouth twitched slightly. "I doubt that was intentional, Mr Potter,"

"I know, Professor, but I didn't manage to do anything! Not even a little bit of colour change, nothing!" Harry's voice was getting slowly louder, his frustration growing.

McGonnagall looked perplexed. "As I understand it, you have been facing difficulty with the practical side of your lessons, correct?"

Harry suddenly became very interested in his shoes. "Yes, Professor. But I was able to do the summoning charm, so I thought I could…" he shrugged his shoulders and shuffled his feet.

"Perhaps it's stress, Mr Potter. You haven't exactly had a normal week have you?" Harry shook his head. Even for a sorcerer, fighting a troll was a weird day.

Harry smiled sweetly and clasped his hands behind his back. "Maybe it's too much homework that's the problem?"

"Mr Potter, it's not going to be that easy," McGonnagall's lip twitched.

"I fought a troll! What's it going to take?" Harry whined.

"I was under the impression you didn't mind homework,"

"I'm 11! Only Hermione actually likes doing it, I just do it because written stuff is pretty much all I can do!"

McGonnagall sighed. "I'm afraid I can't help you, Mr Potter. Why don't you go and get some rest?"

"Thanks, professor," Harry said, turning to leave. As he opened the door, a white blur shot past him, and Harry was forced to stifle a laugh at the state his house prefect was in.

"Professor McGonnagall, Can you get this off me?" Percy begged, then coughed, little white hairs coming out of his mouth.

"Goodness, Percy, what happened?" McGonnagall gasped, taking out her wand.

"That ruddy… excuse me, Professor, that… poltergeist dumped glue all over me then covered me in goat hair!"

McGonnagall scratched her chin, sparing a glance at Harry, who stifled uproarious laughter. "Have you not tried _Scourgify_?" she asked.

"Yes, but that just made it grow longer!" Percy cried. Harry's stomach 00000000000

"Mr Potter, if you cannot contain yourself, feel free to leave," McGonnagall crossed her arms.

"Right, sorry Professor, Percy," Harry chuckled and darted out of the room.

Harry was sitting in the common room with Ron and Hermione, nose in an old, manky book about potion ingredients. "So the bat wings are used to strengthen the potion, right?" Ron asked.

"I think it's for making the effects last longer, isn't it? Yeah, look here, page 186, twelve lines down, ' _fruit_ _bat wings are commonly used to lengthen the effects of the potion it is used in._ ' Harry replied, pointing to a page.

"But this potion doesn't use fruit bat wings, we use vampire bat wings, which are used to stabilise the brewing process, see?" Hermione showed the others a page in her book.

"Oh, right!" Harry said, crossing out his bullet point (using pen and paper, take that, Snape).

"Weird how the type of bat wing has such a different effect, isn't it?" Ron remarked.

"Yeah, when I read about Bezoars, it said that ones in goat stomachs work best, but any mammal's stomach works well en-,"

"Well you look like you're enjoying yourself, Harrikins, so we won't pull you away from studying to talk Quidditch," George interrupted.

"Oh thank Myrlin!" Harry sighed, clapping his book closed.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded.

"I'll do it later!" Harry waved her off.

"In what time?" she replied. Harry raised an eyebrow and wiggled his fingers. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fair enough,"

"So what's up, guys?" Harry asked, plonking himself down by the fire next to Fred, George and Lee Jordan.

"We want to talk strategy," Fred said, pulling out a roll of parchment and waving his wand at it. A 3d model of the quidditch pitch sprung up, and 14 little stick figures started flying around.

"This is awesome!" Harry breathed. "Did you make this?"

George scoffed. "We wish!"

Fred nodded. "Wood's dad bought it when he got named captain,"

"So what're you thinking?" Harry asked.

"Well, this one here is you. Seeker, Red," the figure George pointed to turned into a red S. "And these two are me and Fred. Beater. Red," the next two turned into red B's.

"What we're thinking is that if you can lure their seeker into our line of fire, we can get them with a bludger," Fred said.

"How am I meant to do that?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Well, last year, Mike Yates, the Ravenclaw seeker, did this brilliant thing where he pretended like he saw the snitch and flew past Terence Higgs, the Slytherin seeker," Lee explained, the little figures re-enacting it.

Harry scratched his chin. "So you want me to lure their seeker to you and you'll get them?" they nodded. "Sounds good, we'll have to practice it tomorrow," Harry pulled himself up and ran his hand through his hair.

"Why not now? Curfew isn't for another few hours," Fred asked.

"I've got someone I need to talk to. See you," Harry ran off to his dorm room and opened a sling portal back home.

Harry walked around Kamar-Taj to try and find someone. The courtyard was empty, as was the mess hall, and the living quarters. He ran to Stephen's room and knocked. Wong opened the old door, looking angry and worried. "Hi Wong, where's Stephen?" Wong remained silent, his scowl deepening. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, realisation dawning on his face. "Oh my god, the book. Let me go and get it now, I'll be right back," he opened a sling portal, but stopped when Wong put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Don't be alarmed at what you see," Wong said, and guided him into the study. Harry gasped when he saw Stephen slumped over in his chair, one arm in a cast, waist surrounded by bandages, cuts and bruises littering his skin, from his fingertips to his forehead.

"Jesus Christ!" Harry yelled, running over to Stephen and putting one arm over his shoulder. "Stephen, are you alright?" he looked his master up and down. "What the hell happened?"

Stephen smiled, wincing slightly. "Remember that guy you saved Hamir from when you first got here? Mordo?" Harry nodded. "He came back. Knocked Hamir out cold, gave Wong a serious concussion and a dislocated arm, and he broke most of me, too,"

"How are you still alive? You need to go to a hospital!" Harry exclaimed.

"Wong did a spell," Stephen explained, woozily.

"All I did was minimize the blood loss and numb a little pain," Wong told Harry.

Stephen coughed, blood spattering onto his hand. He winced again. "Alright, let's go. But to Christine. Take my phone, call her, tell her to go to the New York sanctum with a picture of an E.R,"

"Will that work?" Harry asked, worried.

"Yeah, you just have to picture where you w-wanna go," Stephen swayed a little, so Wong lowered his head to the table.

"Go, quickly," Wong ordered.

Harry sprinted to Stephen's quarters and ripped open his laptop. Luckily there was no password, so he found Christine in the contact list and clicked, praying to whoever was out there that she picked up.

 **Meanwhile, thousands of miles away…**

"Alright Mrs Parker, you should be okay, but I want you to wear this cast for a few weeks, alright?" Dr Christine Palmer told a middle-aged woman.

"Dr Palmer? You're phone's ringing, it's Stephen," a man said, holding her phone out.

"Damn," she whispered. "Alright, Mrs Parker, I'm going to leave you in the hands of Nurse Williams, he's going to sort you out," Christine called a sandy-haired lanky man over and ran out of the room. She sighed as she answered the call. "Stephen, can this wait? I'm with a patient," she asked impatiently.

"Christine? My name's Harry Potter, I'm a friend of Stephen's. He's been attacked and really needs your help," Christine didn't know who this kid was, but he sounded terrified.

"Oh my god, is he stable?" her eyes widened.

"Barely. I need you to go to this address I'm texting now, with a picture of an empty E.R so I can bring him to you," Harry spoke quicker and quicker.

"Alright, just a minute," she sprinted to the garage. "I'm on my way,"

"Great, I'll be there soon," Christine heard Harry panting for a few seconds. "I've got it! Hold on!" he hung up.

A car arrived outside the sanctum a 10 minutes later. Christine leapt out, meeting Harry supporting Stephen on his shoulder. Christine started getting him to the car, blood forming a trail from the door.

"No, this is quicker," Harry said, looking at the picture and forming a Sling portal to the ER. Christine blinked, then shook her head. This was not the weirdest thing she'd seen around Stephen.

"Get him on the bed," Christine instructed, pulling on gloves and a mask.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Harry asked, nervous.

"It's alright, I've got it from here," Christine smiled through her mask, and Harry sat down.

"Th-thanks, kid," Stephen murmured, before a mask was placed over his head, and he fell into unconsciousness.

Harry interlaced his fingers. "Hold on, Stephen," he said as a tear rolled down his cheek.

 **And that's the end of the chapter! I'm aware that this isn't one of my best chapters, I feel like it's clunky, and a bunch of other bad adjectives. Good Lord, wasn't that a long 2 weeks! Yes, I work off Frieza time, where 5 minutes is 3 and a half hours. In my defence, I've been dropped into uni headfirst into the deep end wearing a necklace that has a gold bullion as a pendant, and I'm also a radio presenter now! While this is a life-changing experience and further increases my chances of getting a job in the creative industry so the logic side of my brain can shrivel and die, it also eats up my whole Saturday, which is usually when I write. Also assignments. If I haven't replied to anyone's reviews, just PM me with a copy/paste of the review and any other reviews for this chapter. Literally the only reason I won't have replied is that I think 'I'm going to answer these all at once right before I upload,' then I see a few that I really want to reply to, then it all gets jumbled. Either that or they're cringey grammar-deficient flames that don't deserve attention. Welp, that's everything, I'm going to go and grovel at MasakoX's feet to do an interview with me. See you when I see you!**


	17. New School: 10

**Jesus Christ. I mean, I told people this would be out by the end of the Christmas week! I hope I haven't lost too many readers because of my awful time management!**

Trolls, dragons and a chimera, and the thing that scared Harry Potter the most was a hospital waiting room. For two hours he sat in that sterilised hellhole, the sounds around him blurring him into one perpetual noise. A glance at the clock. 10 minutes had passed. What felt like an hour later, another glance. 20 minutes had passed. His mind was racing faster than a lightning bolt on cocaine. Was Stephen going to be okay? Why had this happened? Was Stephen going to be okay? Was Kamar-Taj safe anymore? Was Stephen going to be okay? Tiny droplets of fresh blood on the floor reflected light into his eyes. Opening his hands, he saw fingernail shaped gouges in his palms, red lines snaking towards the ground. He blinked, the stubborn teardrops clinging to his eyelashes finally giving way, and ran to the E.R. Peering through the window, he saw Christine removing something jagged from Stephen's abdomen. He wiped a tear from his face, accidentally smearing blood onto his cheek.

"Um, excuse me?" he heard a British voice say. He turned to see a sandy-haired man standing next to him. "Are you with Dr Palmer's patient?"

Harry sniffed. "Yeah, Stephen's my guardian, Dr," Harry paused, seeing the man's nametag. "Sorry, nurse Williams,"

"I thought I saw… What happened to your hands?" the nurse asked, gently holding Harry's hands up to the light. Harry couldn't help but feel a little awkward.

"It's nothing, I'm fine, really," Harry assured him, but the nurse was already dabbing at his palms with a sterile cloth. Harry hissed slightly. "Stings," he chuckled.

"Well, it's better than getting an infection… sorry, what was your name?"

"Oh, Harry Potter," he replied, no longer looking at the man, his gaze and thoughts returning to Stephen's unmoving body in the ER.

"Well, Harry, don't worry too much. Dr Palmer's the best surgeon in this place," the nurse smiled. Harry was neither convinced nor assured, but smiled nonetheless.

"Thank you. It's just hard not to be worried, you know?" that was an understatement. Harry wasn't worried, he was terrified. A beaten almost to death Stephen asked him go to a country he'd never gone to before, and take him to a doctor he'd only heard of in reference to her relationship with Stephen. His fear wasn't exactly out of the blue. As creeping dread coiled up his spine like a serpent, ready to squeeze the life out of him, he heard his heart pounding in his head even louder than before.

"I get it, really. My wife loves to travel, and she always told me these stories about her and her friend getting into trouble. I was scared for a while, but she kept on coming back. Every time more excited and more amazing," Rory smiled wistfully.

"How did you get over it?" Harry asked, the story taking his mind off his guardian, hanging on to life by a thread in the room just next to him. Damnit, it was back in his mind.

"Oh, I never really did. It was just something she told me once. 'The people who do the most exciting things are safest from them'. She calls it 'plot armour'," he chuckled.

"Plot armour?" Harry queried, cocking his head to one side.

"She's an author, it's when a main character is safe from harm because the story demands it,"

Harry genuinely laughed. "Stephen does seem like main character material,"

Harry and Rory talked for another few minutes, until Rory was called to help with a patient. Harry, his mind now eased a little, went back to the waiting room, and decided to meditate.

…

…

…

…

…

…

"Hey, kid," Harry's spectral eyes opened to see Stephen floating in front of him.

"Stephen? Are you alright? I mean, are you going to-," Harry spluttered with worry.

"Relax, Harry, I'm gonna be fine. Christine fixed me up, but I'm gonna be under for a few more hours," Stephen smirked. "Can't keep me down,"

Harry sighed loudly, relieved. "Thank Myrlin!"

"So, what's up?" at Harry's confused look, he elaborated. "I mean, you obviously wanted to talk face to face, or you'd have sent Hedwig, right?"

"Oh, right! Well, I killed a troll," he looked ecstatic at the thought. Stephen was more shocked than excited.

"You did what?!" he exclaimed, making Harry float back in surprise. "How? Why? When?"

"Well on Halloween Ron insulted Hermione, who we were eventually told was crying in the girls' bathroom. Then professor I-think-he's-evil-but-nobody-believes-me ran in yelling about a Troll. Halfway back to the dorms we realised that Hermione didn't know, so we went to get her. The troll had wandered in so we went in to distract it, then it decided to try and kill me, so I used sorcery – yes, in front of them, don't worry, they won't tell anyone, to block some swings from its club. I used my other hand to make a sling portal to my room to get Dragonfang, and then it broke my arm. Then I kind of got a little angry and stabbed it. A lot," Harry finally took a deep breath and waited.

"Completely ignoring the fact that you broke your arm for a second, why did you kill it?" Stephen's chin was in his hand, a confused and slightly disappointed look on his face.

"It was going to kill my best friends! I didn't go into it thinking 'how am I going to kill this thing?' I just wanted to go in, get Hermione out and run! Besides, the thing was 15 feet tall and I'm pretty sure weighed a literal ton, if I let it live someone could have been hurt, or worse!" Harry had instantly gone on the defensive when he saw Stephen's expression, indignation filling his mind. He'd saved two lives! What was the problem?

"Harry, I-," Stephen paused, unsure of how to word this. "I took the Hippocratic oath to do no harm if I can help it – I know, it sounds like you couldn't help it – but still. I'm just a little shocked, is all,"

"I saved lives. Isn't that what we're meant to do?" Harry had lowered his voice back to normal.

"We are, I never wanted this for you! I taught you because you wanted to learn, because you needed to control your power, not to become some kind of superhero!" Stephen sighed. "That said, I'm proud of you,"

"You are?" Harry's eyes shined.

"Yeah! You saved lives! When I was you're age I was finding out what bacteria was in my boogers!" he laughed.

"You were a weird child, weren't you?" Harry snickered.

"Says the kid with a magic wand and an owl," soon, the two were laughing. After they'd calmed down, Stephen looked at him again. "So, you broke your arm, huh?"

Harry looked sheepish again. "Yeah, it hurt like hell, but they gave me this potion that fixed me overnight!"

"That's not the point, kid. Have you been keeping up with your training?" Stephen raised an eyebrow.

"I- no," Harry conceded.

"What did I say about fitness?"

"You lose it twice as fast as you gain it," Harry recited, then his eyes widened. "Oh, no. Training! I've got to go!"

"What's up?" Stephen was puzzled.

"I'm in a sports team, and they're having training today, I'm going to be late! See you soon, yeah?" he hugged Stephen and returned to his body.

"Where the bloody hell is he?" Ron paced around the dorm, thinking of all the places he'd checked. Did he not realise how important this game against Slytherin was? He winced slightly as bright orange sparks appeared in a circle in front of him.

"Ahh!" Harry yelped as he saw Ron. "Oh, it's just you, thank Myrlin,"

"Where were you?! Your practice starts in 15 minutes and I want to watch!" Ron was bouncing gleefully.

"My guardian's in hospital. Nothing to worry about, he's fine, but I had to see him," Harry quickly changed into his quidditch uniform and snatched his broom from under his bed. "Come on!"

Ron quickly followed the now sprinting Harry, pulling something out of his pocket. "Here. Bacon sandwich. I made it when you didn't come down,"

"Thanks," Harry smiled, taking a huge bite and moaning. "Blistering Barnacles I was hungry!"

"Blister- what?" Ron looked really confused.

"It's from Tintin, a co- I'll tell you later!"

"Ughh!" Harry grabbed his sides and moaned. "Stitch! I am not going to run for the rest of the day,"

"Harry! Just in time!" Wood smiled, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Come on, we're just about to start the warmup,"

"I just ran from the common room, I'm completely warm thanks," Harry groaned, seeing where this was going.

"Come on, it's team building. Alright folks, 2 laps of the pitch, let's go!"

Harry groaned, then went into a light jog next to Fred and George. "Sorry, mate," Fred mock-consoled.

"You're not getting out of Wood's warmups that easily," George laughed.

Up in the air, Harry felt incredible. The wind rushing through his hair, the incredible view of the castle grounds, he felt alive. He sped a quick lap round the grounds, then pulled in next to Angelina.

"Alright, baby?" she asked, nudging him.

"Not too bad thanks, fossil," he shot back, grinning.

"When you're done flirting with a child, Angelina," Wood raised an eyebrow. "Alright, we may be the best quidditch team in Hogwarts, but Slytherin are tough. They're gonna play dirty and offensive,"

"Like they tend to do," Alicia growled, rolling her shoulder.

"Where do you want us, cap?" Fred asked, him and George brandishing their clubs 3 musketeers' style.

"I want to try something a wee bit different this time," he continued. "I know, experimenting against our strongest competition isn't a great plan, but nothing's worked so far. Fred, George, I want you two aiming for whoever doesn't have the quaffle,"

"Hit anyone in green without the ball, got it," George recapped, and he and Fred flew off to practice together.

Wood gave orders to the girls, who flew off, then turned to Harry. "All I can recommend is work on manoeuvring. You're smaller than Higgs, but still a little bigger than usual seekers. Thanks to your Nimbus we have the advantage. No matter what he does, you're always going to be faster, but Flint plays dirty. You'll have to be ready to get out of the way of whatever he throws at you," Harry nodded, then flew off to practice.

"Lookin' forward to it, 'Arry?" Hagrid asked, pouring another pint of tea for himself.

"Yeah, I can't wait! Ron's been showing me some moves using pictures of the Chudley Cannons, and Hermione's been by my side spouting paragraphs from 'Quidditch through the ages' like a parrot referee," Harry laughed.

"Well if you don't want to win, that's fine," Hermione crossed her arms.

"I never said I didn't appreciate it!" Harry pouted, fluttering his eyelashes.

"We're going to win, Hermione!" Ron reminded everyone for the seventeenth time. "Harry's the youngest seeker in a century, there's a reason for that!"

"Tha's right! I've seen 'im fly every now 'n then, an' he's ruddy brilliant up there,"

"Come on, I'm gonna blush," Harry smiled, looking away in faux-embarrassment. "Besides, a game isn't won by just the seeker, the-,"

"Well, it kind of is," Hermione interjected. "So long as the seeker catches the snitch before the other team can score 15 goals, they'll win. It's kind of unfair when you think about it. Even if a team is thoroughly outplayed, they can still win due to one player catching a shiny ball,"

"There's more to it than that, Hermione," Ron scoffed. "The snitch is tiny! Even the best seeker can only see it for a few seconds at a time, and it's ridiculously fast!"

"To be honest, I feel like my eyes are going to let me down. I'm less Hawkeye and more Cyclops," he and Hermione snickered, while Ron and Hagrid stared blankly.

"What about Hawk's eyes?" Hagrid scratched his beard, confused.

Hermione looked surprised. "No, Hawkeye. You know, from the Avengers?"

Ron shook his head, and Harry raised an eyebrow. "And I thought I was isolated," he began to tell the story of the Avengers and the X-men, conveniently leaving out parts including Stephen. They talked until the sunlight turned orange and the tea turned cold, when they finally wished Hagrid a good night and went back to the dorms.

"Welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season! On this cold, sunny afternoon we have the old rivalry battling it out once again, Slytherin vs Gryffindor!" the crowds cheered, flags and scarves waving all over. "Once again, I am your commentator Lee Jordan and the referee is Madam Hooch. Only 2 minutes until the teams come out, folks!"

Fred and George laughed from inside the tunnel. "He really does get into it, doesn't he?"

Harry stiffened, the nerves getting to him for the first time. "Sounds like the whole school's out there," he chuckled, trying to cover his anxiety.

Wood clapped him on the shoulder. "Probably. This game's the one to watch. Slytherin and Gryffindor are usually the favourites to win, not to mention the rivalry between the houses off the pitch as well,"

"Huh. Cool," Harry gulped and paled slightly.

"I felt the same in my first match," Wood commented.

"How'd it go?"

"Not too sure. I got hit with a bludger 20 minutes in, woke up a few hours later," Wood smirked lightly.

"Oh, great. Now I feel better," Harry rolled his eyes.

"And now for the teams!" Lee shouted again, voice amplified. "For Slytherin, we have Miles Bletchley, Captain Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, Graham Montague, Peregrine Derrick, Lucian Bole and Terrence Higgs," the Slytherin cheers were matched by the Gryffindor boos.

"Ready, ladies and gents?" Wood looked over his shoulder.

"Beaters, check!" Fred and George chorused.

"Let's kick their arses, Ollie!" Alicia roared.

"Ready to go," Angelina saluted.

"Mounted and prepped," Katie nodded.

"Let's do this, I guess," Harry gulped once more.

"And now for the Gryffindor team! In goal we have Skipper, Oliver Wood!" As Jordan called his name, Wood flew out, face steely and determined. "Chasers Alicia Spinnet!" Alicia kicked off, "Angelina Johnson!" Angelina followed her, "And Katie Bell!" Katie joined her teammates in a v formation, lapping the pitch.

"Shall we try it, Fred?" George smirked at his twin.

"I think we should, George," Fred nodded. The two took out their wands.

" _Trahentium Rubium_ ," they said in unison, red smoke billowing from their wands.

"Beaters, Fred and George Weasley!" Lee cheered, as did all of Gryffindor and some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. The two Weasleys sped off, smoke trailing behind them. Fred flew in a large circle around George, who did a huge zigzag, creating an encircled 'W' which the two then flew through. Almost everyone cheered at this, including Professor Dumbledore, who Harry could see chuckling and clapping. "And now, for the worst kept secret in Hogwarts history, Gryffindor's new seeker, Harry Potter!" Harry shot out, gripping his broom and flying straight up in the centre of the pitch. He flew about 200 metres up, then let himself freefall, directly down, pulling himself into a corkscrew as he did. The air whipping past him removed all nerves and worry. All that mattered was the game. He heard screams as he got closer and closer to the ground, even hearing the word ' _Arresto_ ' being yelled by Dumbledore. Grinning, he pulled out of his descent at the last second, the bristles of his broom barely missing the sandy floor. He did one quick lap around the pitch and pulled to a stop above the chasers. The crowd went wild, cheers even coming from some Slytherins. He felt a rush of energy course through his veins, his smile filling his face and making his cheeks ache a little.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Alicia called up to him. "That was brilliant! I didn't know you could do that!"

"Who d'you think taught him?" Fred laughed, high fiving Harry.

"Pulled it off brilliantly though, mate!" George clapped him on the back, wiping his head with his sleeve.

Wood flew to Flint and the two shook hands, neither giving way. Madam Hooch flew between them and cleared her throat. "I want a nice, clean game from all of you!" She opened a struggling chest in front of her, sending two bludgers and a snitch flying into the air, a flare of light reflecting off the shiny ball, causing Harry to lose sight of it. Hooch then threw the quaffle into the air, and the game was on. Harry flew high into the air, locking eyes with Higgs, who smiled and nodded.

"I'd say good luck, but I kind of want to win," he called, watching the pitch carefully.

"That's the nicest thing a Slytherin has ever said to me," Harry smirked.

"I'm just here for Quidditch, to be honest. Can't be bothered with the blood-purity stuff,"

"Fair enough," Harry saluted and then squinted. Gasping, he flew right past Higgs, who quickly turned and began pursuit. Harry weaved and dove, following a snitch that wasn't there, Higgs a few yards behind. God he loved his broom. He pulled into a stop as he saw a streak of gold across his vision. As Higgs passed him, he turned and flew in the direction of the streak, but it was gone.

"Angelina Johnson scores! 10 points to Gryffindor!" Lee shouted. Harry cheered, clapping wildly. Once play restarted, the crowds quietened down once more.

"Huh," Harry shrugged. "I thought there'd be chanting," he smirked and began doing slow laps. In this time, Kate scored 1 more, and Alicia had a fantastic shot narrowly saved. Then everything went belly-up. Flint scored two back to back, then Wood got taken down by a rogue bludger. Harry cringed as the ball slammed Wood's temple, beginning to feel a little wobbly. Actually a lot wobbly. Incredibly wobbly! Before Harry new it, his broom was bucking like a rodeo bull at a carnival. It took everything he had to hold on, the broom spinning and rolling as if it were a rowboat in a tidal wave. He tried to cast a spell to get it back under control, but to no avail, it was as if any manacles and reins he conjured instantly vanished by… by magic! Someone was jinxing his broom! He very nearly threw up as the broom began shaking violently, doing its very best to loosen his grip. Just to rub salt into the wound, Slytherin scored 2 more in the empty hoops.

"What's 'Arry doing?" Hagrid cried, peering at the erratic figure up in the sky through binoculars.

"His broom's been jinxed!" Ron yelled, shaking Hermione by the shoulders, who looked thoroughly unamused.

"Get off me!" she growled, shoving his hands off of her. "Maybe Harry lost control?"

"Harry's one of the best fliers I've ever seen, he wouldn't suddenly do that!" Ron tapped Hagrid's side. "Hagrid, could I borrow those?"

Hagrid handed them down to Ron, who passed them to Hermione. She peered around, suddenly coming across Snape, muttering something incomprehensible and staring, unblinking, at Harry's broom. "It's Snape! Come on!"

Harry was suddenly feeling very unwell. Sick was brewing in his stomach, he could feel it. As his broom gave another great lurch to throw him off, he overheard Slytherin cheering again. 50-20, great. Then, out of nowhere, he saw Higgs flying beneath him, hand outstretched, flying beneath him, as if he was focusing on… he saw it. The golden snitch, ahead of Higgs by just a couple of feet. It looped the pitch, pulling Higgs along with it. If Harry still did accidental magic, a lightbulb may have appeared over his head. He stared at Higgs intently and did possibly the stupidest thing he'd ever do. Just as the opposing seeker was close enough, Harry let go of his broom. He was thrown off and began plummeting to the ground, wind whipping his robes and already unkempt hair. As a Harry-shaped shadow grew over him, Higgs looked up and gaped, giving Harry the opportunity to nab the snitch from right in front of him. Not wasting any time, he flipped over and begged his idiotic plan would work. He held out his free hand to his broom, which had mysteriously stopped bucking, and yelled "UP!" the broom shot down to him, his hand gripping the handle just before he would've begun an intimate relationship with the floor. He held on for dear life as his Nimbus 2000 pulled him back into the air and stopped, allowing Harry to climb back on and finally brandish his newly caught golden snitch.

3 and a quarter stands erupted into cheers. Hagrid clapped louder than anyone else, for obvious reasons, and Harry saw Ron and Neville hugging and leaping for joy. As he scanned the crowd, he was more than pleased to see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle looking quite angry, along with a lot of the Slytherins. He turned to the staff stand and saw Dumbledore smiling, bright blue eyes twinkling, McGonagall clapping reservedly, and Snape looking… oddly relieved. He flew closer, pretending to still be celebrating, and peered at Quirrell. He seemed to also be relieved, but Harry still had a nagging suspicion about his DADA professor, and he began to form an idea about why he lost control of his broom…

"I'm telling you, it was Snape!" Ron persisted. "He jinxed your broom!"

"I've read all about jinxes, Harry. You have to maintain eye contact and Snape wasn't blinking," Hermione explained.

"Guys, this is ridiculous," Harry sighed, turning another corner. "Why would Snape want to kill me?"

"Well, he hates you," Ron supplied.

"He hates all gryffindors!" Harry shot back.

"He doesn't appreciate being talked about behind his back," a smooth voice said from behind them. They turned and saw professor Snape, looming over them with a leer on his face that could lower your defence stat by 6 stages. "Shall we call it 5 points from Gryffindor each for insulting the character of a member of staff? 15 in total sounds about right," all 3 of them groaned.

"Sorry, Professor, I was just trying to prove to my friends that you didn't jinx my broom," Harry looked at his feet.

Snape almost choked. "Why would I jinx your broom, Potter? Surely your precious friends know that a jinx such as that would have taken an incantation as well as constant eye contact. If I were that obvious in killing you I would be fired on the spot and sent to Azkaban. Unlike your foolish father, I don't value pointless things like quidditch over steady employment,"

Harry's fists balled as anger rose in his stomach. Of course Snape had to bring it back to insulting his dad, Ron was turning redder than his hair at the unwarranted loss of another bunch of points to Snape, and Hermione had her 'I'm thinking, shove off' face on. As they turned back and headed for the common room, Hermione stayed silent, thinking over what Snape said again and again.

"What the hell does he have against my dad? This is like the 50th time he's brought him up for no reason!" Harry moaned.

"He's just mad that Slytherin lost the game and you played so well. That's why he took the points off us. Bloody git," Ron muttered.

"Could both of you be quiet for just a second, I'm trying to think!" Hermione shrieked, and the two of them covered their ears, wincing.

"Sorry, Hermione," they chorused.

" _Caput Draconis_ ," Harry said to the fat lady, who swung off the wall revealing the entrance. As he and Ron climbed through, he looked back to see Hermione standing there, pacing with her hand cupping her chin. "You coming?"

Hermione thought for a moment, then shook her head, opening her mouth to reply.

"Alright, have fun in the library, we'll see you later," Ron waved, smirking.

"Ronald!" Hermione chided, then rolled her eyes and walked away.

As Harry clambered through, he winced again as he heard raucous cheering. Magical streamers went off all around him, and he beamed as he saw every Gryffindor in the year dancing around the common room, cheering and waving banners. The team were in the middle of it all, receiving high-fives, handshakes and even some surprise kisses for Wood, who blushed profusely and shooed the girls away.

"Here he is, folks, the man of the hour, the fearless falcon himself, HARRY POTTER!" Jordan screamed over the cheering with a well-placed _sonorous_.

The cheers increased and the Weasley twins stood up and began fake conducting the common room, who began chanting "CAUSE WE'VE GOT (CLAP CLAP) HARRY POTTER, WE'VE GOT (CLAP CLAP) HARRY POTTER, WE'VE GOT (CLAP CLAP) HARRY POTTER, HE'LL CATCH IT EVERY TIME!"

Harry turned redder than a beetroot in a tanning bed, and grinned as Angelina and Alicia pulled him up onto their shoulders, parading him around like a trophy. He'd saved his best friends' lives, helped to ensure his mentor and guardian was safe and sound, and won his first Quidditch game. He didn't think it was possible to be happier than he was now.

 **Alright. I know. It took a while. In my defence, I had a 1500 word essay to write which covered half of my module grade (which I aced), then I had to work almost every day (at a job which I no longer have), and I have a radio show to produce and co-present (which I'm still doing and am loving), and I have a youtube mini-series I have a supporting role in (which is so much fun), and I'm writing a script for an audio-drama based on the Marauders' time at Hogwarts (which I'm super excited for), and I have, like, ten coursework deadlines in for March/April (which do kind of have to come first), so can I be forgiven? Please? Please?**

 **Anyways, thanks for not abandoning me, you guys are really fantastic. As always, I do my best to reply to everyone, but if I haven't, just PM me with the review copypasted and I'll be sure to get round to it :).**

 **Also, the chant at the end was a football chant based on 'Glad all over' by the Dave Clark Five. If there are any Manchester City fans in my audience, they'll know what I mean.**

 **Thank you so much for all the favourites, reviews, PMs and follows, it really brightens my day whenever I wake up to see my Gmail app has exploded.**

 **This was a double size chapter to make up for lost time, and we'll be back to 2000-ish word chapters next upload, which, barring, catastrophe or writer's block (are they not the same, though?) will be in 2-3 weeks. See ya!**


	18. New School: 11

**OK. In my defence, I got a job. And I'm a moderator for a discord server (PM for details). And I'm trying to kick-start a YouTube channel (PM for details). And I'm directing and writing an Audio Drama. And I've been going to conventions out the wazoo. And I'm writing an animated series. And I'm starting a business. So my plate has been very full, but I got around to this! I'm sorry if this isn't all it could have been, but my creative juices have been flooding more towards these other ventures for the moment. If I missed your review, please PM me and I'll do my best to get around to it.**

 **Not a huge issue, but I've changed the categorization of this from Harry Potter/Doctor Strange crossover to Harry Potter/Avengers Crossover. I have big plans for this fic, which extend out past the confines of Doctor Strange.**

 **Final thing, I MET BENEDICT WONG AND I TOLD HIM ABOUT THIS FIC AND HE LIKES IT AND HES SO NICE AND HE IS MY FAVOURITE MCU CHARACTER OH MY GOD AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!**

Running around the Hogwarts grounds on a cold November morning, Harry was amazed by how quickly time had passed. It didn't seem possible that it was almost the end of the year. As he ran past the quidditch pitch, giving a quick wave to the Hufflepuff team as they trained, he wondered what he'd do about the Christmas break. Should he go back to Kamar-taj, or should he stay at Hogwarts year round? He loved this place, but back home he could hang out with Hamir, pick up new skills, maybe finally convince Stephen to let him see the thing in the basement! But then there were his friends. The first friends his age he ever made. What would they be doing? He stopped to catch his breath, leaning up against a tree. He thought back a moment, sure that he'd missed something important.

"Alright, 'Arry?" Hagrid called, pulling a massive pine tree behind him.

"Hiya, Hagrid!" Harry waved back. "What's that for?" he gestured to the large tree.

"Christmas tree for the great 'All,' the huge man called back.

Harry's eyes snapped open. "Christmas?" He thought back to his… time… at the Dursleys, remembering the smug joy Dudley felt after every Christmas present. He chuckled, realising he'd forgotten about it in his new life. "I wonder why Kamar-Taj doesn't celebrate Christmas," he shrugged. That didn't particularly matter. He was going to do what no sorcerer had done before, something so incredible yet so obvious, it was strange that none had thought to do it. "I am going to become Santa Claus,"

* * *

"Ron?" Harry asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. They were playing another game of Wizards chess. Well, playing was a strong term. It was more like Harry was moving his pieces and Ron was playing the 'let's humiliate everyone who goes up against me in chess' game.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron replied, moving his rook into a check position.

Harry groaned and shifted his king. "Could you tell me a bit more about your family?"

"There's not too much to tell, really. Why?" Ron moved a bishop. "Check,"

"Just wondering, is all. What sort of people are they? What do they like and not like? Who's the funniest, who's the coolest? That sort of thing,"

If Ron was suspicious, he didn't show it. He started listing his family members, and Harry couldn't help but imagine an all-Weasley Quidditch team. He told Harry in interesting detail about Bill's tenure as a curse-breaker, Charlie's dragon-handling career, Percy's infatuation with the ministry and legislation, Fred and George's love of pranking, joking, and everything funny. Harry made a mental note to introduce them to Wong at some point. "And then there's Ginny. She loves Quidditch more than pretty much anything. Except for you, though," Ron snickered, making Harry blush furiously.

"Really? You're my best mate and she's 10," Harry said, deadpan. "Care to imagine that for a second? Me snogging your 10 year old sister right in front of you,"

Ron paled and retched. "Right, sorry, that was weird,"

It was now Harry's turn to snicker. "I'm just kidding, mate. I promise I'll stay away from your sister, cross my heart," they laughed for a moment, then Ron smirked, looking back down at the chessboard. He moved a pawn one space forward and leaned back.

"Checkmate," he called proudly.

"What? No way! What if I do this?" Harry moved a knight.

"Nope, my bishop can still get you,"

"How about this?"

"My queen's there,"

"How are you this good at chess?!"

"Trial and error, mate," Ron held out his hand, and Harry begrudgingly shook it.

"If you don't become some sort of military officer there's something wrong with the world," he sighed and rubbed his forehead.

* * *

 _Dear Stephen,_

 _Are you better now? I swear to Myrlin, you need to stop getting almost killed, that's my job! You reshape the universe with a thought and a wave of your hands, I fight monsters that want to kill me. I'm back to training now, I'm doing a lap of the school every morning. It would be fun, except that apparently Scotland is twinned with Hoth, because it's bloody cold here!_

 _What am I going to do about Christmas? Should I come back, or do you think I should stay here? It's up to you, really. Also, I'm going to try and get my friends some presents. Why do we never do that? I'm not trying to sound greedy or anything, I'm just wondering. But I feel like they're going to get me gifts, and I'll feel bad if I don't get them anything._

 _Still no luck with my wand, which I am now using as a back-scratcher to get some use out of it. Seriously, I can create lightning whips, shields made of the energy binding the universe together and invisible spears, but I can't make a bloody feather levitate? I'm going to ask Dumbledore for some pointers when I get the chance._

 _Well, see you soon, Master!_

 _Harry_

As Hedwig nabbed another slice of bacon from his plate, Harry tied the letter to her leg. "You ready for another long-distance flight, girl?" she flapped her wings, as if to say 'I was born ready'. Harry laughed. Stroking her one more time, he bade her goodbye and she flew through the skylight.

* * *

"Can anybody tell me the correct time and place to find unicorn horn?" Snape asked, scanning the crowd. Harry and Hermione's hands shot up immediately, Hermione a half-millisecond early. Something akin to a rivalry had developed between them. "Nobody?" Snape rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. Potter," Hermione grunted as she rubbed her aching arm.

"Underneath a halfway waning moon, sir. Also, some potioneers have suggested that Highland unicorns have the more reactive horns within the species," Harry had, much to the chagrin of his teacher, become a good student. Given that there was 'no wand waving or silly incantations in this class', he wasn't struck with disadvantage as he was in many other classes.

"Indeed. 1 point to Gryffindor," Snape stifled an annoyed sigh. "The unicorn's natural shine means that they absorb small amounts of moonlight…," Harry tuned out at this point. He knew all this, so he just waited for when Snape began writing the instructions on the board to return to reality. It was always the same.

* * *

Harry's watch beeped. 6AM. He groaned and rolled out of bed, peering out of his window. It was snowing. Because of course it was. He pulled on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie, found his gloves and made his way to the great hall. He tapped his cutlery twice, and a plate of bacon and egg on toast with a cup of coffee appeared in front of him. After Fred and George showed him how to get into the kitchens, showing him the odd House Elves, he had a code with them to bring him a standard breakfast. He was shocked by their willingness to do this, but didn't bother them about it.

"Good morning, Harry," a voice said over his shoulder.

"Hm?" Harry mumbled as he turned around. Seeing the smiling face and twinkling eyes of professor Dumbledore, he quickly swallowed his mouthful and smiled. "Good morning, sir," he stood, formally, "What brings you here so early?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again. Seriously, did he actively control that? "I could ask you the same, my boy,"

"I'm just having an early breakfast and going for a run," he gestured to his outfit. "I'll get into uniform when I'm finished and cleaned up,"

"That's alright, I'm not going to punish you for getting exercise," Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling again.

"Sir? Could I ask you how you do that with your eyes?" Harry blurted out, then blushed.

"You know, that's one of the questions I get asked the most. And my answer is always the same," he chuckled. "I have no idea whatsoever," Harry snickered into his hand. "Have a good run, Harry,"

* * *

Once again, Harry arose at 6 AM, got dressed for a run, and began making his way to the Great Hall, only to be stopped by Wood, dressed similarly to him. "Morning, Harry," he said, cracking his neck and standing up. "Is it alright if I join you?"

Harry smirked. Of course it would be Wood who joined him first. "Sure, only if you can keep up,"

"I'll do more than that, cheeky bugger," the two of them began talking tactics on their walk down to the hall.

"So am I allowed to score goals?" Harry asked, taking another bite out of his bacon sandwich.

"Aye, but it's not recommended. The time you spend scoring gives the opposing seeker a chance to catch the – bloody hell!" Wood exclaimed. You see, he had just seen Harry's breakfast turn into a mass of white plumage.

"Hi, Hedwig," Harry said, moving to stroke his owl. Hedwig responded by trying to bite off one of his fingers. She was panting heavily and shuffling towards Harry's goblet. Harry tilted the cup so she could get her beak into the water. After 5 seconds, every single drop was gone. Hedwig gave a thankful sigh and collapsed, chest still heaving.

"Where the hell are you sending your bird?" Wood asked, eyes and grin wide.

"She may be doing some long-haul flights," Harry moved to stroke her again, but she flailed her talons around exhaustedly. "Do you want a rest for a bit, Hedwig?"

The beautiful bird snarled and rolled onto her back and slid herself across the table, getting as close to the door as she could without walking or flying. Wood blinked. "I don't know if that's the best owl in the world or the strangest,"

Harry smirked. "Come on, Wood, she's obviously both!" Wood chuckled as Harry opened the letter.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I'm fine, Christine is practically magic. As much as I hate how glib you are about your near-death experience at the hands of Hercules' rejects, you're right. I'm staying out of trouble now, and I hope to god that you are too._

 _Keep working at your wand magic. You managed to succeed in 3 years what took Wong 5, so you can get the hang of this._

 _Harry, this is Wong. It did not take me 5 years, it took me 2 and a half. Not all of us are prodigies like Strange who can master the mystic arts in 11 months._

 _Anyways, I have some news. The New York Sanctum needs protecting, so we have to move there. Are you okay with that? If you are, then I'll leave it up to you what happens over Christmas. You can come back and help me move, or you can stay at school away from the stress. Your call._

 _We don't do Christmas because, apparently, Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual. But if you want to give gifts, then I can sort it out for you. Send me the list, just give me enough time to get the stuff, okay?_

 _Write back soon, but maybe you should use a Sling portal instead. Your owl looks pretty exhausted._

 _Stephen._

Harry smirked, then put the letter into his pocket. He began compiling a list of all his gifts in his head. Finishing his breakfast, he and Wood began their morning run. "What was it about?" Wood asked, offhandedly.

"Oh, I'm moving house," Harry replied, smiling,

"Nice. Any idea where?"

"New York City," he grinned like a madman.

* * *

Christmas Eve came, and Harry was up incredibly late. Along with the gifts, Stephen had sent him a roll of everlasting, customisable wrapping paper. Apparently someone at the New York Sanctum was an art major at NYU, so decided to experiment, mixing his artistic talent with sorcery. So of course, when the morning came around, he was more exhausted than a sloth who moved 60 metres in a day.

"Harry! wake up, Harry! It's Christmas!" Ron shook him awake, barely dodging a sloppy kick from the exhausted boy. "Come on! Wake up!"

Harry rolled over, groaning. "Ugh, what's the time?" he checked his watch. "6:30? Are you insane, Ron?" he pulled his covers back over his face and rolled over.

A minute later, he heard footsteps heading to his dorm. Adamant to stay asleep, he curled into a tight ball. "Harry," he heard Ron say in a singsong voice. "Wake up, Harry,"

"Go-way," he mumbled, clamping his eyes shut. Then his nose was tickled by the scent of cinnamon and spice.

"Well, I suppose I'll just throw away this Chai latte, then," Ron sighed, melodramatically. Harry had leapt out of bed, grabbed the coffee and downed half of it before he could. He sighed contentedly.

"Ahhhhhhh. Okay, all is forgiven," he grinned at him. "Merry Christmas, mate,"

"Merry Christmas, Harry!" he chorused, then headed down to the common room.

After checking to see he was alone, he Slinged to his room at Kamar-Taj and grabbed a big red velvet sack, which he carried down the stairs, grinning like a loon. A red Santa hat was hanging from his head, and he gave a great "Ho Ho Ho!" as he walked into the common room. Ron gawped at the size of the bag, and ushered him over to sit down with him.

"Looks like Mum made you a Weasley jumper," Ron grumbled apologetically, handing Harry a brown package. He noticed then that Ron was wearing a maroon knitted jumper with a big letter R. Harry tore open the package, and his eyes suddenly stung. He held out the red woolly jumper in front of him, examining every inch with adoration. This, this gift, that Mrs Weasley had given him despite barely knowing him at all, made it real. As he slipped the jumper over his head, he felt like all those years with the Dursleys had melted away. It was as though pulling the collar down, drying his eyes as he did so, had pulled away his fears, his worries, everything. "…be because I told her you weren't expecting anything. She made me one too, in maroon, and I hate maroon, but I can't tell her that, because – Harry?" Ron stopped mid-ramble when he felt Harry wrap his arms around him.

"Thanks, mate. So much. For everything," he whispered, holding his best friend tight.

"Erm, no problem, mate," Ron patted Harry's back awkwardly.

Harry released him after a few seconds, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat. "Sorry, not used to… this,"

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds.

"Well wasn't that sweet, Fred?"

"That it was, George!" Harry and Ron's heads whipped around to see Fred and George standing in the doorway, grinning. Ron blushed, looking angry, but Harry just grinned back.

"Sod off, Bludger-brains, it's Christmas!" Harry laughed, waving them over and high fiving them.

Harry picked up his gift from Hermione, a bag of chocolate frogs, and a carved wooden flute from Hagrid, then Harry grinned. "How about we crack open this sack, huh?" he patted the massive red back, undoing the knot and reaching in. To Fred and George Weasley, from your biggest fan, Santa Claus!"

The twins raised eyebrows, chuckling, but took the gift, unwrapping it, revealing… another layer of wrapping. Then another, and another. Harry had wrapped the gift a dozen times, just to mess with the pranksters. By the eighth layer, Harry was thumping the floor laughing, the twins following suit. Eventually, they did get through to the gift, a bag of instant swamp powder.

"Wow, thanks Harry!" George ran his fingers through the green sand, marvelling at it.

"Had our eye on this one for years! How did you get it?" Fred asked incredulously. Harry simply tapped his nose, reaching in to the sack again.

"To Ron Weasley, from someone who dreads the day he plays chess against you, Santa Claus," Harry grinned, passing Ron his normally wrapped gift. He ripped open the paper to reveal a slip of paper.

"Umm, thanks Ha-OH MY GOD IT'S A TICKET TO THE CANNONS!" Ron proceeded to run around screaming his head off, singing every Chudley Cannons chant he could think of, and yelling thanks at Harry in between breaths.

"What's all this noise?" a groggy voice moaned at the entrance to the common room. Harry looked to see who it was, and did his best to not to growl. It was Christmas, after all, and even Percy deserved cordiality on Christmas. The twins went into a long show of forcing Percy's jumper over his head, and Harry laughed along with Ron, then cleared his throat, standing up with another package.

"Hi Percy. Merry Christmas," He said, amicably enough he thought.

"Oh. Hello Harry. Merry Christmas. Staying for the holiday as well, I see," Percy nodded stiffly.

"I wanted to give you something. A peace offering, to bury the hatchet, you know?" he handed the present to the prefect, smiling lightly.

"Umm, thanks Harry," Percy took the parcel tentatively, as if worried that it might explode, or turn him into a budgie or something. He slowly unwrapped it to reveal a book and two tickets.

"It's the Magna Carta, and two tickets to Prime Minister's Questions," Harry explained. "Ron said you liked politics, so I thought it'd be good for you to see how muggles do it,"

"Wow. Thank you Harry, that's really thoughtful of you," Percy smiled at him, holding out a hand, which Harry shook.

"Aww, Ickle Hawwy's tugging on my heartstrings, Forge!"

"Mine too, Gred!" the two of them swooned, clutching their hearts and fake sobbing into each other's shoulders.

"I refer you to my previous request that you sod off," Harry said, deadpan.

"Looks like you've got another present here, Harry," Ron piped up, handing him a neatly wrapped gift.

"Does it say who it's from?" Harry beamed, still taking in this whole 'having presents' thing.

"Uhh not that I can see…" Ron handed him the gift, which Harry ripped open, revealing a shiny cloak, and a note.

"Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. How am I going to use a cloak we-WHERE IS MY BODY?" Harry had wrapped the cloak around himself, then leapt back when he saw that he had disappeared from the neck down!

"Merlin's saggy left…" George breathed.

"That's… that's… oh my god…" Fred looked like he was about to faint.

"They're so rare! How did they find one?" Percy asked himself.

"It's an invisibility cloak, Harry!" Ron gasped, excited.

"Is it really, Ron? I thought that the cloak that turns me invisible might have been a potato peeler," Harry rolled his eyes, still grinning. "This is incredible! Does anyone recognise the handwriting?"

They all examined the note and shook their head, until Percy had a second look. "Hang on, I think I recognise something. I'll be right back," he ran off to his room, leaving Harry to fend off the ginger hyenas currently eyeing his new cloak.

"So. Harry," Fred began.

"About that cloak," George continued. They both had a slightly manic gleam in their eyes.

Harry did his best to feign ignorance. "Yes? What about it?"

"Well, you see, we like to engage in certain, um, how shall I put this?" said George.

"Extra-curricular activities," Fred supplied.

"Exactly, brother mine. And I was just saying to Fred the other day, wasn't I, Fred?"

"That you were, George. Just the other day,"

"Yes, I was saying to him, I was, 'Wouldn't it be great if we could turn invisible? What wouldn't you give for that ability?'" George's hand was inching ever closer to the cloak.

Harry blushed slightly, not particularly wanting to say no to them, but then Ron cut in. "Oh back off, he's barely had it five minutes yet! Even I'm gonna wait before asking!" Harry smiled, enjoying Ron's defence of him, until the youngest Weasley boy turned to him with a familiar gleam in his eye. "But I'm first after you, right?"

"Absolutely!" he grinned, not being able to contain his excitement. Percy came running back in with a letter in his hand.

"Here, found it. This is my prefect acceptance letter," he said, ignoring Ron, Fred and George's eye rolls. "See the way the author writes 'it'? It's the only similarity, but I'm certain I've only ever seen that handwriting in two places: on this note, and on this letter. And prefect acceptance letters are written by Professor Dumbledore," Percy seemed very pleased with himself.

"Nice one, Percy!" Harry clapped him on the back jovially.

* * *

The rest of the day was just as brilliant. They all headed down to the Great hall for a good old Christmas breakfast, filled with bacon, eggs, French toast, cheesy sausages, and bad puns all round. After they were sufficiently stuffed, they began the annual Hogwarts snowball fight, with even Professor Dumbledore joining in on the fun halfway through. An hour and a dozen warming and drying charms later, they were all relaxing, waiting for the Christmas dinner. Harry, after watching Ron trounce Percy at chess for the 4th time in a row, told them that he was going to try out one of his new gifts, winking at them.

* * *

He strutted through the corridors, his cloak wrapped around him, marvelling at how nobody could tell he was even there. He turned down a corridor he'd never seen before, just for the hell of it, then another, and another, until he came to a dead end, with a large wooden door slightly ajar. His curiosity got the better of him, and he crept into the room. He was a little underwhelmed, seeing that the room was practically empty, but then a glimmer of gold hit his eye, and he saw a tall, golden framed mirror. He walked closer to it, and saw himself, but not now. His reflection was leaping around, dodging beams of light and throwing just as many back. His golden orange shields sparking as he deflected attacks, and Dragonfang glinting in the light. But he wasn't alone. Stephen was there too, casting spells he'd never seen before. And Wong, completely dominating the faceless opponents. What he saw next nearly toppled him. He saw two figures, dressed in robes, running up to him and fighting back to back with him. They shot spell after spell, their hair whipping around. The man looked, well, just like Harry, only older, a little less muscular, and with hazel eyes. The woman's fiery auburn hair caught his eye, reminding him of a memory from long ago. But her hair faded from memory, when he saw her vivid green eyes, grinning at him as he blocked a curse. He knew those eyes well. He knew instantly who these people were.

"Mum? Dad?"


	19. New School: 12

**Hi, everybody! (pauses for 'Hi, Dr Nick!') I've had to take some time off to get some other stuff written, but for the meantime, I have a guest author to introduce! Say hello to Oniforever! She's written a fic called 'Come Together', which is absolutely fantastic and you should all go check it out after reading this chapter, which she has written! I hope you enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed 'Come Together'! Now, Oni (hands her the keyboard) Go.**

 **Oni: Thank you Ryuko for those incredibly kind words of welcome that I'm totally not crying over or anything. *sniff***

 **Oni: Hello all! *waves wildly* Oniforever here as a guest to give you the next installment of Master Potter of Kamar Taj! And greetings to any of my pretties that may or may not be here, though honestly, Ryuko has the bigger fan base here, meheha. But you're stuck with me now, so HA!**

 **Tom: God help us all.**

 **Oni: This STORY doesn't even belong to me, so I'll skip the disclaimer.**

 **Tom: I don't even go here.**

 **Ryuko: Oh get back on Ian Hart's head, Gollum!**

 **Tom: Make me, wanker.**

 **Ryuko: You're nothing but ink on a page, shall I get my lighter?**

 **Oni: Tom, be nice, we're guests.**

 **Tom: I will as soon as the host stops calling me Gollum.**

 **Ryuko: Ring with a piece of the dark Lord's soul inside that can call Wraiths when someone wears it.**

 **Tom: I'm not that second rate Dark Lord! I refuse to be associated with that...that caricature!**

 **Oni: *sigh***

 **Oni: I hope you like the continuation of this great fic! Aaaaaaaand ONWARDS!**

* * *

It's odd, really, seeing one's dead parents smile at you from a mirror. Their arrival jarred something within him. Perhaps it was the sheer oddity of their presence, or the fact that he was watching them fight side by side with him, but whatever it was snapped Harry from his brief stupor. His instincts, honed from three years of study at Kamar-Taj, kicked in and he remembered what he had to do.

Breathe.

Green eyes glued to the image in front of him managed to force themselves shut. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Repeat. Calm, find your core. Find your inner strength, and then see the world for what it truly is. When his eyes opened once more, Harry confronted the sight before him. The figures in the mirror continued to battle faceless enemies, all joyous and determined. It was an image he could only wish for in his dreams, laid out in front of him, forcing him to confront it. He sucked in another breath and let it out. Steady.

Now that he was calmer, Harry averted his gaze from the reflection in the mirror to regard the mirror itself. Engraved upon the top was an inscription that he had not noticed before. A head of messy black hair tilted to the side, trying to focus on the words instead of the image below.

 _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.  
_  
It was not in any of the ancient languages he was tutored in, nor did it seem to follow a code. It wasn't a chant, as it didn't follow a proper beat. Even so, he knew that the inscription was probably important to understanding the nature of the mirror itself. There was something crucially simple that he was missing. Harry was sure of this. His gaze flickered back and forth across the letters until he managed to realize something interesting. The first and last words, if read backwards, became the English words 'Desire' and 'I show'. Green eyes widened as he looked at the inscription again.

 _I show not your face but your heart's desire._

...Heart's desire?

The images in the reflection filled his gaze. Now that he knew what the mirror did, the sight before him made sense. Wand spells and tao mandalas flickered and flew across the surface, Dragonfang slicing through the faceless hordes. This was what he wanted, to be able, to be allowed to fight side by side with Stephen and Wong… with his parents. Fingers brushed the cool glass, as if trying to reach inside, to make this a reality.

A wave of sadness washed across him as he remembered that the image before him was impossible. The wizard and the witch beaming before him were gone. This desire was one he couldn't have. The smiles of his parents, the determination of his guardians suddenly felt taunting. They were the fruit and he was Tantalus, cursed to forever reach for that of which he could not have.

What had been sorrow was now replaced with fiery anger. How dare this mirror taunt him in this way? Dangling his dearest wish where he could see but not touch? Harry' hands balled up into fists as blazing green eyes glared at his mirror image, who had a similar expression directed at the depicted enemies. For the first time since looking at the accursed thing, both the boy within the mirror and the one outside of it were in perfect sync as their fists arched toward each other. Harry prepared for the glass to shatter, accepted the fact that his hand would come out bloody-

"Harry?"

The voice from the quiet broke the small Sorcerer from his trancelike rage, the balled-up fist narrowly missing the glass. Harry stumbled slightly, but managed to catch himself, turning to the origin of the voice.

Dumbledore was standing at the doorway, blue eyes beneath the half moon spectacles wide in shock. His hand was raised slightly, reaching for Harry as if to pull him away. The young boy slowed his breath down, having not realized that he had been breathing fast during his bout of rage. Forcing a swallow, he nodded his head in greeting.

"Hello, Professor."

The Headmaster smiled, though his eyes still held worry. Walking deeper into the room, Dumbledore perched himself on one of the unused desks. He patted the empty spot next to him. Sighing a little, Harry obliged by sitting down at the offered seat. Only when he looked around did he realize why Dumbledore had chosen the spot. It was impossible to see the mirror's reflection at this angle.

"I see that you, like many, have bore witness to the powers of the Mirror of Erised." the Headmaster began, "I assume, by your reaction before my arrival, that you know what those powers are?"

Harry noticed that the man's face held no judgement, just simple curiosity tinged with concern. In reply, he turned his head to face the mirror and glared at it half-heartedly.

"I show not your face, but your heart's desire." he quoted from the inscription, "I think that sums it up pretty well."

From the corner of his eye Harry saw Dumbledore nod slowly, solemnly.

"Even the strongest of men would waste away in front of it, hopeless in trying to possess what the mirror shows." a smile then graces the Headmaster's face, "Your reaction is actually one of the better ones, in a way. Better to destroy such an artifact, as priceless as many would see it, than to have others fall to its power."

That wasn't why he was ready to punch the mirror into shards, but perhaps the older wizard also knew that it wasn't altruism driving his thoughts at the time. However, a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Then why is it here?" Harry asked, "Why put this mirror where anyone could find it, if it's so dangerous?"

This time it was Dumbledore who sighed, regarding the mirror a little sadly.

"The Mirror is being moved to another location," the wizard answered, "It was supposed to be there already, but something had come up and it's destination was not ready to receive it. I wrongly assumed that no one would enter this room in the short amount of time that it would be staying here."

Harry could sense that there was more to the story, but decided to let that subject drop. Instead, he asked a different question.

"How long will the mirror stay here?"

"Two more nights, if all goes well." was Dumbledore's answer, "I shall put some extra protections around it tonight so that no more wandering souls can stumble upon it."

With that, the Headmaster stood up from the seat of the dusty table, brushing off his robes with a calm ease. When he turned back to Harry, there was a bright smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

"Now then, I suppose both of us have overstayed our welcome." the old man told him jovially, "It's almost dinnertime, and I'm sure some Christmas cheer will do us well after such heavy subjects."

With a nod, Harry followed the Headmaster out the door, purposefully not looking at the mirror. He didn't need to, he'd already seen enough of it to have it burned into his memory. He'll hold onto it until the day it became a reality. Even with that thought hanging over his mind, the young Sorcerer watched as Dumbledore casted a multitude of spells (protective, that much he could sense, as well as one to repel anyone near it. Harry briefly wondered why this wasn't on the Cerberus door, but decided to dwell upon that later) upon the door.

"Sir?" he suddenly asked, making the older wizard pause in his casting.

Pocketing his wand, the Headmaster tilted his head toward the young boy.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why didn't you ask me what I saw in the mirror?" he had tried to choose his words carefully, but they still ended up being spontaneous.

Dumbledore's expression briefly turned into one of melancholy, as if remembering something bittersweet.

"One's greatest desire is something very personal." was his reply, "In it one can deduce someone's greatest fear, their weaknesses and insecurities. It's not my place to ask that of you."

They walked the rest of the way to the Great Hall in silence.

* * *

"Snape's what now?" the red headed Gryffindor asked with a nearly gaping jaw.

The trio were walking to their next class, which just so happened to be DADA. The Christmas holidays were behind them and classes had resumed. With classes came the return of Hermione and Neville, the former of which had excitedly recalled the trip to Paris with her parents on the day she stepped foot back into Hogwarts. Harry had listened to her arm-flailing tales with a wide grin, while thinking of New York, the place that would some become his new home.

"Professor Snape is refereeing the game. Honesty Ron, did you not hear him the first time?" Hermione grumbled out with a roll of her eyes.

Apparently the gift he had gotten her for Christmas had been very well received. Harry was hard pressed to give her a book she most likely didn't have (which meant something weird or obscure because apparently she had nearly everything from Flourish and Blotts), and ended up asking Wong for his advice. The Sorcerer simply gave him a stern look, left for a little while, and then returned with an old tome (which had a spine _at least_ ten inches wide) called A Compendium of Known Darke Spirits. Upon her arrival back at Hogwarts Harry had been gifted with a tight hug in all its bushy haired glory as the girl proclaimed her thanks for the 'ancient' and 'rare' book. Ron had simply stared at her strangely upon seeing the book with his own eyes, as if trying to comprehend why anyone would want to read a book that big for fun.

"That's just bad luck, mate." Ron groaned out, fixing the strap on his bag, "There's a high chance that he'll favor the Hufflepuffs this game."

Quidditch practice the night before had given him some interesting news. Apparently the Slytherin Head would be taking over Madam Hooch's usual spot of Quidditch referee. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with what had happened the last game, what with that jinxed broom and all. He understood the need for someone to watch the game closer, what with this being possibly the third time Quirrell's tried to murder him now (at least, if what he was seeing was right, things were just too well timed for it _not_ to be the guy), but why that someone had to be _Snape_ of all people had Harry a tad irritated. It was a sentiment shared by the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

"Wood said the best thing to do is catch the Snitch before Snape can pull any blatantly biased moves." Harry recalled, grimacing slightly as he looked around him.

The Potions Professor really had a knack for showing up when someone was talking about him. In fact, he'd been randomly popping up around Harry recently, as if hovering around him. What, did he have Harry's schedule memorized or something?

Talk about creepy.

Days passed quickly after that, and the upcoming Quidditch match was soon upon them. From outside the room Harry could hear the crowd chanting. Every single member of the Gryffindor team was jittery. And why wouldn't they be? They were so close to beating Slytherin for the House Cup, and those dreams would soon be dashed because their referee was sure to favor the other team. Harry pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing them in circles to try to stave off the forming headache. The chanting outside grew louder, and he could now make out the words...

"MAKE QUIDDITCH FAIR! MAKE QUIDDITCH FAIR! MAKE QUIDDITCH FAIR!"

Green eyes behind round wire frames widened, and the young Sorcerer quickly made his way up to the entrance, peeking out from a crack within the boards. There, already decked in their Quidditch gear, was the Hufflepuff team, surrounding both Snape and Dumbledore (who was attending the game for what Harry assumed were safety precautions) with their brooms in their hands and chanting loudly. The confusion must have been showing on his face because Fred and George soon approached him, trying to get a look at what Harry was seeing.

"What's gotten you in a rut, Harold?" asked Fred.

"Has Snape banned us all from playing?" continued George.

"Should we hand in our brooms?" added Fred.

"Beg for mercy?" mocked George.

"Actually," interrupted Harry before they could go any farther, "I think the Hufflepuff Quidditch team is rallying a protest on our behalf. Snape looks constipated."

Well, constipated was an understatement. Snape's face was red in rage (and/or embarrassment) and was feverishly shouting something at Dumbledore, who seemed to be amused at the whole ordeal. Even from afar, the spectacle was hilarious, and the three young wizards couldn't help but laugh, drawing the attention of the other members of the team.

"What's going on?" demanded Wood, throwing open the door that led into the pitch, "What in Merlin's name are they doing?"

With the lack of a wooden barrier between them, the roar of the chanting crowd almost overwhelmed Harry's ears as the team crept out of the waiting room. The voices became louder as the crowd noticed them, waving and hollering at the top of their lungs.

"KEEP QUIDDITCH FAIR! KEEP QUIDDITCH FAIR!"

"Pure brilliance, that's what they're doing." Johnson breathed out, her smile wide as they made their way over to the commotion.

By the time the team had joined the crowd, Harry was grinning from ear to ear. One of the members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team jogged over to greet him, shaking his hand with a wide smile on his face. Harry replied in kind, looking around to see much the same thing happening with the other members of the team.

"I'll be honest," Harry began, "I wasn't expecting something like this to happen when I heard that Snape was refereeing. I'm Harry, by the way. Gryffindor Seeker."

The Hufflepuff boy's smile became wry.

"Yeah, I figured," the boy replied, oddly enough not glancing at his scar, "Hard work and fairness is the foundation of Hufflepuff. I'm Cedric... Hufflepuff Seeker. Glad to finally meet my match, though I had hoped it would be on fair grounds."

The last part was emphasized by a sideways glance to Snape, who had finally gotten the crowd under control with the help of Dumbledore (who still seemed to be treating the ordeal as an elaborate joke, on whose part Harry wasn't sure), his face pinched and scowling.

With the aid of Madam Hooch (who appeared to be torn between being angry at the rowdiness and amused at Snape's misfortune), the crowds filtered back into the stands while the players mounted their brooms. Unfortunately, Snape was still referee, but at this point there was nothing Harry could do about that. With a silent glare at each of them, the potions professor blew his whistle and tossed the Quaffle high in the air.

The game had begun.

Taking Wood's advice to heart, Harry began circling the pitch, his eyes frantically searching for the elusive hummingbird-winged ball. Making his own rounds on the pitch was Cedric, who Harry kept an eye on just in case he found the Snitch first. He thought he saw it a couple times, but in the end it had been either a trick of the light or the drafted thing flew off to places unknown. And while that happened...

"Looks like Snape's called in a foul for Johnson!" Lee's voice shouted into the air, "Which was completely uncalled for, that dirty ch- ow! Sorry Professor McGonnagall!"

Already Snape was starting with the favoritism. _Fantastic_. Harry groaned from his place near the stands, green eyes flitting about as he renewed his efforts to search for the little golden ball now that he knew Snape was going to be a giant prat. His eyes flickered to Cedric, who looked equally perturbed by the blatant bias. Lee's voice rang out:

"Aaaaand that's another foul for Gryffindor! Snape's gone after Spinnet for absolutely no reason whatsoever... well it's true, Professor McGonnagall!"

With every uncalled-for Gryffindor foul, Harry grimaced, becoming more frustrated as time passed. If he didn't find the Snitch soon, it wouldn't matter who caught it. The Snitch appeared within his line of sight, allowing him to chase it until it disappeared once more. Harry growled in frustration as Lee chimed in again.

"Three penalty shots? What do you mean you're giving Hufflepuff _three penalty shots_? Gryffindor's done nothing that could have called for that! Well I'm glad you agree _this_ time, Professor!"

Harry signed as he flew over to his spot, waiting for the Hufflepuff Chaser to score his goals. Damn Snape, if Hufflepuff scores those goals, Gryffindor would lose even _if_ Harry caught the Snitch. With a bated breath he watched the Chaser, Preece, fly up to position with the Quaffle in his hand. Tired eyes regarded the Chaser, who Harry had seen score nearly every goal he's thrown during the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match, with a kind of sad resignation.

Then Harry's jaw dropped as Preece proceeded to throw one of the weakest underhands he'd ever seen in his life.

As the Quaffle dropped, Harry could see the smug look on Preece's face. A quiet, muffled _thump_ could be heard as the ball finally hit the ground thirty feet below. The crowd became silent, unsure of what to do. Another one of Hufflepuff's Chasers, Applebee, provided the second Quaffle, which soon joined its brother in slamming to the ground as Preece merely tipped the red ball out of his hand. A murmuring sound came from the crowd, whispers of confusion making their rounds in the stands. Grinning widely, Applebee flew down the pitch to snag the fallen Quaffles, tossing one over to Preece for the final shot. This time Preece held the ball properly, his arm reeled back and...

And the ball speeded straight towards Snape's face.

It hit its mark straight on, the sound of the impact not all that different to a Bludger's strike. The crowd erupted into sheer madness. Appelbee tossed the remaining Quaffle to Bell, who immediately used the Potion's Professor's distracted state to score a goal of Gryffindor's own, despite the Hufflepuff Keeper trying to keep it out of the hoops. A laugh erupted out of Harry, who looked to the sky to thank whatever deity was up there that Hufflepuffs existed.

"And Snape's gone down! An excellent shot from Preece, amazing arm that one!" cried Lee, who seemed to have just remembered his voice.

Flitting to and fro in front of his vision was the elusive Golden Snitch. Immediately his hand reached out to grab it, only to come up empty. Spying it flying away, Harry gave chase, speeding up to keep pace with the tiny thing. Behind him he could hear the sound of another person. Cedric was also giving chase.

The Snitch veered downwards. Harry followed despite the fact that with each passing second, the ground rose, a warning that if he didn't move soon, he'd be kissing the grass at speed that would make his face worse than Snape's was right now. Before that could happen, however, the Snitch suddenly reversed, flying in the opposite direction that it had been going. Out of instinct, Harry followed suit, pulling his broom upwards, his feet barely missing the grass below, shooting upwards in the direction of the Snitch. Behind him, the sound of a body impacting the ground could be heard. ' _Oooohs'_ from the crowd could be heard.

"Oh that had to _hurt_! Diggory's down for the count!" Lee's voice proclaimed.

"Sorry!" Harry yelled to the wind, unwilling to turn his head and lose sight of the Snitch that tried to give him a similar fate.

With narrowed eyes the young Sorcerer closed in on the winged golden ball, his arm outstretched, fingers twitching to close at any second. Much like a Venus flytrap snagging it's prey, the moment he felt the Snitch hit his palm, his fingers closed on it. A wave of euphoria hit Harry as he let out a whoop of joy, holding his closed fist upwards, the golden hummingbird wings poking out from the spaces between his fingers.

"And Potter's caught the Snitch!" Lee screamed with joy, "Gryffindor wins 210-200! What a close match people!"

The crowd had gone wild. Pumped up on adrenaline, Harry flew to the ground, only to be leapt on top of by Wood, then the Weasleys, then the girls. only to be immediately scooped up by his celebrating teammates. They lifted him into the air to receive the cheers and chants he had earned. After he was placed back on the ground, he made his way to Cedric, who was being levitated away by Madam Pomfrey. The Hufflepuff Seeker gave him a smile and a thumbs up, even with the blood pouring out of his nose, as he was swept into the care of the tutting Healer. When he turned around, Harry was greeted by an ecstatic Ron.

"Bloody hell Harry, I didn't know you could do that!" the redhead shouted almost breathlessly, "A Wronski feint! A real Wronski feint, right in front of me!"

At the new terminology, Harry tilted his head to the side. Ron appeared to be like a kid who had just received ice cream for the first time.

"A what now?" came the eloquent reply.

"A Wronski feint!" was the enlightening answer, before Ron decided to elaborate once he realized Harry didn't have a clue of what he was talking about, "That dive you did, when it's that close to the ground it's called a Wronski feint. It's one of the rarest and most dangerous moves in Quidditch. Most flyers can't pull it off and end up breaking their nose or worse, but you just did it! I can't believe it!"

Harry could only follow Ron's infectious grin. The exhilaration from pulling off apparently one of the most dangerous dives and catching the Snitch (and winning the game, let's not forget that) had yet to leave him.

Looking around, he saw a red-faced (of which the coloring was partially aided by the blood trickling down his nose) Snape, who was positively livid, grumbling his way to the castle. Surprisingly, he saw Dumbledore make his way over the Harry himself, giving the grinning Seeker a pat on the shoulder.

"Well done, Harry." murmured the Headmaster lowly, "I'm glad you've been living."

Harry blinked a few times, trying to decode the words before remembering the Mirror of Erised. His nod of reply may have been a little too full of energy to be considered solemn, but Dumbledore understood it all the same. With a chuckle, he left the young wizard to his celebrations.

It was days like these that made Harry happy to be at Hogwarts.


	20. New School: 13

**Well, you guys seemed to like Oni's chapter, so I've asked her to help out writing this one, too! Well, I say help out, she did most of the work, but I've written some as well!**

 **Oni: Back again, it seems! Hi everyone! *waves***

 **Tom: You have work to do. Why are you helping to write another chapter?**

 **Oni: Altruism and FRIENDSHIP!**

 **Teá from Yugioh Abridged: Did someone say FRIENDSHIP?!**

 **Tom: And now you've called a crazy one.**

 **Oni: We're all crazy ones.**

 **Tom: ...True.**

 **Oni: ANYWAYS like last time, this story is not mine. I just helped write some of it. Aaaaaaaand ONWARDS!**

* * *

It was now clear to Harry that 'subtle' wasn't in Hagrid's dictionary, seeing the way the giant man was trying to inconspicuously sneak a book out of the library. Judging from Madam Pince's face (which was reminiscent of Snape's during the last Quidditch game), he wasn't doing so well. If it weren't for the fact that he'd lived with Wong as a librarian for three years, he'd be terrified of the look she was giving him. As it was, Harry just felt pity for the Gameskeeper. Deciding to spare the Gameskeeper any more embarrassment, Harry walked up the the giant man.

"Hey Hagrid." he greeted, "I wanted to ask you about this breed of hedgehog that's blue and can run faster than the speed of sound. Have you ever seen one? If so, is it possible to get one? I've always wanted to see one for myself."

He didn't know if the ploy would work. Hell, he wasn't even sure that the damn things existed (as interesting as it would be to have a real life Sonic), but it seemed to have done the trick because Madam Pince had looked at him with a sour expression before storming off to admonish a student for slamming a book down on the table. Hagrid turned to him with a relieved expression, though Harry wasn't too mollified by the way he was still carefully clutching the book. Briefly his eyes flickered over the cover and noticed the title dictating that the book was 'How to Train Your Dragon'.

Oh… well that's oddly simple and informative.

"Eh, sorry 'arry." Hagrid rumbled out as the two of them left the library, "Can't say that I 'ave."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione had followed him, jogging to catch up with him once they left the boundaries of the Library lest they earn the ire of Madam Pince (the horror, oh the horror. Well, at least to Hermione). Each had curious expressions on their face as the four of them exited the castle as Hagrid explained that while there _were_ breeds of blue hedgehogs, none of them ran very fast. There was, however, a platypus-like creature that likes shiny things. They apparently make bad pets. Professor Kettleburn had twelve.

Once they reached the hut and pleasantries were exchanged, Harry decided to address the elephant (no, not Hagrid, well, maybe Hagrid) in the room. Well, he would have if another elephant didn't make itself known to him. Sitting in a pot over the fireplace was a very large egg. And not 'size of a basketball' large, 'size of his bedroom dresser' large.

Putting two and two together, Harry turned to the giant man with wide eyes. Hagrid, for his part, hadn't noticed as he was a little busy taking the rock cakes out of the oven. Ron and Hermione, however, had noticed the giant egg on the equally gargantuan fireplace and had decided to voice their concern.

"Hagrid..." Hermione began delicately, before Ron's loud voice overpowered anything she was about to say.

"That's a dragon egg! Charlie's come home with some of them before! Hagrid, where did you get one?"

Just like that, the Groundskeeper's face suddenly resembled that of freshly fallen snow. That is to say, very white indeed. The large man paused for about half a second, but Harry already knew Hagrid had no filter between his brain and his mouth anyway, so waited for the inevitable information flood.

"Won it off a bloke from the pub." Hagrid explained, "Eager to get rid of it, too. But I don't mind. I've always wanted a dragon."

"That's _illegal!_ " stressed Hermione, her hair a little frizzier than normal, "I've read about keeping magical creatures. Dragons are a class XXXXX creature! It would take _years_ before anyone could get a permit to raise one! Hagrid, what were you _thinking?_ "

He probably wasn't, Harry thought to himself, his eyes not leaving the egg in the pot. What were dragons like in the magical world? If they could be reared and kept as pets, he highly doubted they were as intelligent as Fin Fang Foom. Even so, Hermione's tone and jargon told Harry that even so, such dragons weren't just oversized flying lizard dogs. Not that he wouldn't jump at the chance to see one up close.

"Er…" Hagrid began, but nothing more came out.

"Furthermore, dragons _breathe fire_ and you live in a _wooden house_." Hermione continued, not paying attention to Ron's rapidly paling expression.

"Wha's that gotta do with anythin? My house don' weigh the same as a duck!" Hagrid retorted.

Harry snorted, bursting into laughter. Hermione's widened before she too burst into giggles. Ron looked at the two of them in confusion.

"Uh, guys? A little help here?"

"It's from a muggle movie, Ron." Hermione supplied before looking quizzically at Hagrid, "But how did you know that, Hagrid?"

"Professor Dumbledore showed it me once." the giant man explained, "I laughed from Tuesday to Saturday that week. Great man, Dumbledore,"

Harry made a sound of understanding. Hermione simply nodded slowly with an odd expression in her face. He was about to question it when the bright witch spoke again.

"You're trying to change the subject." she noted, walking up to the egg to get a better look at it, Harry and Ron at her heels, "You can't keep a dragon here Hagrid, it's just too dangerous. From I can tell..."

Hermione flipped through the pages of the book Hagrid had taken. At what point in time she took it, Harry wasn't sure. Seeing the girl with a book in hand was probably so natural that his eyes failed to note it as anything out of the ordinary. Soon a quiet 'ah-ha!' was heard from her as she opened the page wider so that everyone around her could get a better look.

"You've got a Norwegian Ridgeback." she stated, briefly showing the page depicting the aforementioned dragon before burying her nose back in it, "...closely resembles a Hungarian Horntail, has large ridges along its back... _goodness_! The adults are large enough to carry off whale calves! Hagrid, there's no way this dragon can fit in your house once it's grown! Not only that, you could get in trouble for rearing it, never mind keeping it on school grounds! It's far too dangerous for a dragon like that to stay here!"

"Yeah, maybe a dragon isn't the best choice for a pet," Harry couldn't help but agree with her. He shuddered slightly. If Fin Fang Foom was anything to go by, a dragon near a school full small tasty children wouldn't exactly be the safest choice. He stared at the large black egg. Big enough to carry a whale calf and still fly? That's not the kind of creature Harry ever wanted to tango with, especially not a grown one, no sir-ee.

"It's not very dangerous as an egg, though." Ron pointed out, his eyes bright as they reflected the flicking flames, "Besides, I've always wanted to see a dragon hatch. Mum would never let Charlie hatch them at home, they always had to go back to the Reserve for that."

Hermione huffed lightly, but Harry could see that Ron's enthusiasm for seeing a dragon hatch was contagious by the way her eyes began to sparkle because honestly, how dangerous could a baby dragon be? Harry was skeptical about the little scaly beast growing inside the egg, but even he felt curiosity grow as the idea of seeing a baby magical creature hatch from an egg. He'd already faced a chimera, a Cerberus, and a troll. What was a baby dragon compared to those guys?

"We could always wait for it to hatch before we send it away." he thought aloud, "But the question is, where would we send it?"

Obviously the Forbidden Forest was far too close, and could still be susceptible to feasting on anyone who traveled too close. Somewhere far away was preferable. Wait hadn't Ron had previously mentioned...

"I'm sure Charlie wouldn't mind taking it to the dragon reserve in Romania." Ron replied proudly, as if reading his thoughts.

Damn. One step ahead. And this wasn't even chess!

"I can write to him and he can come and pick it up!" the redhead continued excitedly, "If he comes 'round in the middle of the night no one would be the wiser!"

Aaaaand now he's lost it.

"Uh, Ron?" Harry called out quietly.

He motioned for his friends to come closer, trying not to catch Hagrid's attention while doing so. However, Hagrid seemed to have wandered off somewhere, probably to get more firewood for the egg if the sputtering flames were anything to go by.

"But we'd be seen!" Hermione countered, "There's no way we wouldn't be noticed giving a crate that size to some stranger on a broom!"

"Guys?" Harry tried again, but alas, his friends were on a roll.

"We could use Harry's Invisibility cloak!" Ron crowed, "It's got plenty of room inside for all of us!"

"But where would we take it?" Hermione argued, "The astronomy tower where, if you recall, are where nightly classes are held? And where people have a rather good view of all the other entrance and exit points?"

"The owlery!" Ron sniped, "There's an area where nobody would be able to see us-"

" _Guys!_ " Harry cried.

" _What?_ " the two of them yelled in tandem.

Both were already a little red faced from the bickering, and he was sure they would have had a rather fleshed out plan that would have had one loophole that they didn't notice and would have gotten them caught. Fortunately he had other options. Harry tapped his sling ring before holding it up to them.

"I can teleport!" he stated, giving them both a look that perfectly conveyed 'have you forgotten already?'.

Understanding dawned on their faces, Hermione's eyes widening and Ron's mouth opening in a wide 'O'. They looked to their friend sheepishly.

"Er, sorry mate." Ron muttered, "Kind of forgot about that. I'll write to Charlie and get a picture for you."

* * *

After the new plan was decided (which involved a simple portal while Hagrid wasn't looking, and telling the most likely distraught giant man that the bloody thing ran off to a lovely farm where it can frolic all day and it'll be so happy forever and ever), the trio bid an incredibly confused Hagrid goodbye. The Gameskeeper made them promise not to tell anyone else about him having a dragon egg, and told them that he would let them know when it started hatching.

This happened almost a week later, when Hedwig literally dropped a small note (well, small for Hagrid) in front of him, almost landing in his porridge. The simple words 'It's hatching' conveyed the message well. It was only then that Harry began to feel a little bit of trepidation and excitement, having put the subject of the dragon's egg out of his mind for the past few days.

Progress in classes had been slow. Potions was as simple as ever, but the classes that required wandwork were still a struggle. Harry tried to recall what he did to summon Dragonfang to him, but even then it only made a tiny difference. Hermione, Ron, and Professor Flitwick encouraged him by saying that 'Progress was progress', but Harry couldn't help but feel defeated. His sorcery skills were just fine, more than fine, he was brilliant, so why wasn't he getting this? Waving a wand and saying some words shouldn't be this hard!

On the bright side Charlie had written back to Ron, ecstatic about the reserve gaining a Norwegian Ridgeback (apparently they were rare, huh) and happily sent over a picture of the reserve entrance. Thankfully he didn't ask why, or questioned how on earth they were going to transport a small dragon from Scotland to Romania. Harry didn't know what Ron had told him, only that the redhead hadn't snitched on his friend about his sorcery skills. Unfortunately Charlie _had_ told Ron that they would have to wait until the dragon had matured more before they could send it to him as a newborn dragon was rather fragile. It was agreed that a letter be sent to the dragon keeping Weasley the day the dragon hatched to make plans for someone to be near the Romanian drop point two weeks after the hatching.

Harry shook these thoughts from his mind as he stared at the scrap of parchment, showing it to Ron and Hermione when they were alone. After classes they quickly (and hopefully inconspicuously) made their way over to Hagrid's hut, where the giant man energetically ushered them inside. The egg was no longer in a pot on the fireplace, as it had been moved to the large table near the center of the room. Unlike before, it had deep cracks running in all directions like grey-red veins, and the damn thing was shaking up a strong as the creature from inside worked to get out.

"It's hatchin'! It's hatchin'! Hagrid bounced from foot to foot, making the ground shake with each jump.

Ron looked worried, Hermione had a look on her face that seemed like someone had mixed up concerned, excited, terrified, and 'I'm about to scold you' into one face. Harry, on the other hand, was just staring at the shuddering object with a stiff countenance, his chin and hands on the hilt of Dragonfang (you know, just in case they're crazy human eating monsters from the get go). He wasn't sure why the sword itself was so adamant on coming with him, to the point of practically screaming in his head, but he decided that maybe some protection when meeting a dragon wasn't a bad idea. Looking at the damn thing, he wouldn't be surprised if it were true.

The crack that echoed through the small hit was comparable to that of a thunderclap (Thor? Is that you?). Shards of black shell were scattered atop the table, and at the center was creature that was both adorable and hideous. Mostly hideous. Large orange eyes bulged from a ridiculously skinny leather body, looking more like a piece of black leather with unidentifiable putrid liquids on it than a baby dragon. Ugly as it was, it didn't seem to pose a threat. On the contrary, the dragon hatchling was kind of… pathetic, Harry thought it himself as it gave a small sneeze, and tiny embers flew out of its nose.

Hagrid made a sound that Harry assumed was supposed to be cooing.

The young sorcerer's eyes followed the tiny dragon around as it snapped at Hagrid's fingers (because the guy's first instinct was to _pet_ the damn thing), blew sparks at Ron, and snorted at Hermione. When its oversized eyes landed on Harry, it paused and made a slight gurgling sound. Harry stiffened as it crept closer to him, Dragonfang humming loudly in his mind with every inch it neared. With a jolt from his relic he realized that the dragon wasn't looking at Harry but at Dragonfang, regarding it almost reverently as it tried to get closer to the sword. Once it reached the edge of the table, the dragon once again made a gurgle from its rope-thin throat, it's neck extended as it tried to touch the hilt.

"Aw," boomed Hagrid merrily as he watched the dragon's strange behavior, "Bless 'is heart! 'e thinks yer 'is mummy!"

Great, so the dragon baby thought Dragonfang was its mother? Just his luck.

"I think I'll call 'im Norbert. D'you like that name, eh, Norbert? Hagrid's eyes were shining as he beamed down at the hatchling.

"Hagrid, I don't think that this baby dragon is going to understand enough to nod, it's only-"

Harry stopped mid-sentence. He felt a buzzing coming from the hilt of Dragonfang. The sword began to shine brightly, and Norbert nodded slowly. Everyone was speechless. Did his sword just translate dragonspeak? They all simply stared at the dragon, then at the sword, then at Harry himself. In reply, all he could do was shrug. He hadn't known that Dragonfang could talk to anyone but him, never mind other dragons.

"Mate," Ron began with a hint of awe, "Did your sword just… talk to the dragon?"

His voice had an effect on Hermione and Hagrid, breaking them out of their stupor. The dragon itself continued to have an oddly serious expression and Harry could feel the onset of a headache coming on. He knew his life was crazy, what with being raised by sorcerers for the past three years and being the wizard messiah that couldn't even master the most basic of wand spells, but it was times like these when Harry felt that his life was going off the deep end off ridiculously insane. All he could do was sigh.

"Yeah." he grumbled, suddenly drained of energy, "apparently, it did."

* * *

Days passed and Norbert grew. Actually, 'grew' was a bit of an understatement. Harry had taken to calling the winged reptile 'Norbert the Big Black Dragon', though only Hermione got the reference and they had difficulty explaining the idea of 'Clifford' to Ron. True to Hermione's warning, it was getting harder and harder to hide Norbert from prying eyes. By the time the day arrived where they would finally be rid of the dragon, Norbert was nearly the size of Hagrid's hut. All in all, Harry was looking forward to giving the reptile over to Charlie, even though a part of him couldn't help but be slightly fond of the beast… probably because it could be mildly controlled by Dragonfang.

Hagrid said his goodbyes on the break before dinner, the trio making their way to the hut as soon as their last class finished. The sun was low on the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant reds and oranges that reminded Harry of Norbert's flames, which the dragon had been spouting out since a few days after it hatched. With one final sniffle, Hagrid thumped away, as they all had agreed that his large presence would have given away the fact that something was up.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all gathered around a surprisingly calm Norbert, Dragonfang glowing as it spoke...something...to the giant creature. Under the cover of Hagrid's hut, the young Sorcerer placed his hands in the air and summoned a Sling Portal, the orange sparks framing the image of the Romanian Dragon Reserve. The Norwegian Ridgeback passed through the wide portal without complaint, though it gave a keening whine over at Dragonfang's direction. When the portal closed, the trio were left standing in the clearing behind the hut, Harry's two friends staring at the empty space in silent awe.

"Uhh, haven't you seen this before, guys?" Harry asked them with no small amount of amusement.

"Uh, mate?" Ron replied, "I don't know how to break it to you, but dragons aren't easy to tame. You just did that on _accident_."

"Also," Hermione added, "I've never seen you create a portal that large before."

"Good point." was all Harry could say, regarding his ring with a smile, "These Sling Rings sure are handy."

* * *

Elsewhere, a group of dragon keepers watched as a mysteriously well-behaved Norwegian Ridgeback padded up to them, lifting its head as if to say 'I'm here, now what?'. They gaped at the giant creature and looked around, wondering how it had gotten there. Charlie simply sighed. He knew this was going to be interesting when Ron had simply written 'Just Trust Me'. With a shake of his head, the red haired dragon keeper led Norbert to its new home.

 **One more chapter until book 1 is complete! I know that some of you have been disappointed with how much this follows canon, but I promise, it'll deviate more and more, starting with summer!**

 **Big ups to Oniforever for giving me a hand with these last couple of chapters. She also has had a fair amount of input on chapter 21, and I can't thank her enough for her support. If you haven't already, go check her out, she's brilliant!**

 **Last thing. Do you know what's really fun? searching the name 'Kinnundo' in your search engine. It's really fun indeed ;)**

 **Byeeee!**


	21. New School: 14

Exams, of course, were a stressful time. The theory, he could handle. He knew his textbooks inside and out, he could brew a perfect pepperup potion, and he knew every minutia of how to transfigure a match into a pin. The issue came in the practical exams. He was _this_ close to using his sorcery, but he promised himself it wouldn't come to that. Hermione was running at 400 percent capacity, and Harry just knew that saying anything to her may end in the loss of a finger. Or a hand. Or the entire arm. Only Ron had the stones to try and calm her down. To his credit, he _did_ manage to convince her that sleep was just as important than studying. After all, you can't take a test if you die from exhaustion.

Also, it didn't help that Hermione, who had read her christmas present front to back four times, was now bugging him for more information on sorcery.

"It has to have some root in common magic!" she protested from her place in one of the Gryffindor Common Room's chairs.

"I'm telling you, it doesn't!" Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead.

He'd stayed up late last night trying to cast _verdimillious_ , with no luck. Not even a tiny spark came from the wand tip. This spell was supposed to be easy, dammit!

"But it's magic! It has to be connected!" she argued as she plonked a massive book on the table in front of him.

Harry groaned. Why couldn't she understand that not everything fit into her world-view? You can't always read a bloody book and get every answer to the universe from them! Although to be fair, the library at Kamar-Taj might come pretty close...

"Look, Hermione, I've studied this for three years." he ground out, frustrated, "I've thought about what you're thinking about now. I'm only the second person in recorded history who studied both!"

"Really?" her eyes shined with wonder, "Who was the first?"

"Myrlin." he answered, and tried to budge the book (bloody hell it was heavy!), "He studied under The Ancient One, who also trained Stephen."

Hermione's eyes lit up.

"Merlin? Who is The Ancient One? Maybe he knows how it's connected! Could you get him to meet me?" she questioned in her usual rapid-fire rage.

Harry sighed again. One tracked bloody mind, she had.

"One, The Ancient One is a woman." Harry answered, biting back a scathing reply, "And two, she's dead."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking a little disappointed. "I'm sorry,"

"It's okay, I never met her. Stephen took me in afterwards." Harry smiled as he said this, his mind going to the day he was rescued from the Dursleys.

At least she recognised when she'd blundered. Sometimes. He returned his attention to his casting. A deep breath was taken, calming him minutely. His wand was brandished in front of him and his face screwed up in tight concentration.

" _Verdimillious!_ " he shouted, waving his wand in perfect movements, focusing with all his might…

And produced nothing.

"DAMNIT!"

He threw his wand to the other side of the empty common room, where it landed with a soft _thump_ on the carpet.

"Have you tried talking to Dumbledore?" Ron offered, "He might know something about it."

"Well, no, but I don't really want people to know about it. I've already crossed a line telling you two." Harry stated before he pulled his wand back to him with a quick whip of orange light, "Look at that. That was intermediate sorcery, I learned that after 18 months of study, practice and meditation. So why the hell is making a whip out of the energies of the multiverse easier than making green bloody SPARKS?!" he shouted the last part of his tirade and then proceeded to groan into a nearby pillow.

"You'll figure it out, mate. If you can kill a troll, you can work this." Ron stated as he patted Harry on the back, nodding sagely.

"Thanks, mate." he said with a smile, taking a sip of his chai (multiverse bless the House elves!), "I can't believe we killed a troll!"

"You killed a troll, don't make me an accomplice, thank you very much." Hermione huffed as she crossed her arms, mock-pouting.

"You helped!" Harry argued with a smirk, "You were roasting the hell out of that thing with your little Human Torch spell. Bloody impressive wandwork from both of- THAT'S IT!"

Harry punched the air, grinning like a loon.

"Harry?" Hermione gasped, surprised.

"What's it?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Wands!" was the unhelpful answer from Harry until he spoke again, "Ollivander could tell I was a sorcerer when I got my wand! If anyone's going to know something, why wouldn't it be the guy who makes wands?"

Harry slipped his Sling Ring onto his finger and began forming the circle.

"You can't go now, Harry!" Hermione chided, "It's half past 8 and you're in school! If you get seen in Hogsmeade, you'll get expelled!"

"Yeah, just owl him." Ron added, "I'm sure he'll be more than happy to answer that for you.

The sparks of orange left his fingertips, dissipating into nothing. A sigh escaped Harry as his shoulders sagged a little.

"Yeah, you're right." he muttered, walking up to his dorm to compose the letter, "Thanks for the advice. I'll think I'll do that."

Harry got a pleasant surprise a few days later. While eating his bacon pancakes (so sweet, so salty, so delicious), Hedwig dropped a letter on his head. Opening it, he was delighted to see that the wax seal held the logo of Ollivanders. Abandoning his breakfast to Hedwig, he opened it and began to read.

* * *

 _Mr Potter,_

 _I was pleased to receive your letter, hoping that perhaps I may have found an apprentice of wandlore. However, the nature of your request intrigued me more so than said hope._

 _I must say that I know little of your discipline, only what I was told by the Ancient One, rest her soul. From what I can gather, it would seem that you are indeed only the second person in recorded history to study both arts. I believe Merlin had the opposite issue to you, but as he is not available to answer your query, I shall do my best to speculate._

 _Magic and sorcery are dissimilar in all respects. From the way the spells are cast to their origins. I believe that you may have trained yourself in the 'wrong' discipline. Picture it as such; you are ambidextrous, yet have written your whole life using your right hand. You then decide that you wish to use your left. You have the capability, of course, but you shall struggle far more than when you originally learned to write. Perhaps you are attempting to apply sorceric techniques to your wandwork, effectively harnessing the energy of infinite dimensions to cast spells. This will never work. The core of a wand comes from a magical creature, and is therefore in tune with magic, a very different type of energy from what you are familiar with. Of course, that is a crude explanation that I came up with to explain it to both you and myself, as I said I am no expert. Nonetheless, I hope I have been some assistance._

 _Kindest Regards,_

 _Garrick Ollivander_

Finishing the letter, Harry stared at the words in contemplation. So… he'd been using the wrong type of magic? It made sense, he supposed. Now he knew what to look for, he could give it a better go. He wolfed down his bacon and jogged back to the common room.

* * *

With the end of the year fast approaching, Harry felt a shift in the air. He wasn't quite sure how to explain it or why he was suddenly feeling rather anxious, but he knew something was up. As he went through the day, the young Sorcerer was still unable to pinpoint what was making him so jittery. However, in DADA, he was given his answer.

Quirrell was giving him every dirty look under the sun, and also appeared to be in a hurry of some sort, but Harry couldn't figure out for the life of him as to why. Maybe his suspicions were right, and he was trying to get past that massive dog? Speaking of which, Harry had an appointment with someone who loved them-self a dangerous animal.

"Hagrid, what do you know about the Cerberus?" he asked, hoping he sounded off-the-cuff and laid back.

He bit down on a rock cake. As tough as they were, they tasted really good once you got through the outer layer. He assumed that the outside served as a mini insulator of sorts, though only the giant man seemed to be able to bite through it. As it was, Harry himself was reduced to letting Hermione cast a charm on it to make the shell more edible without running the risk of breaking his teeth.

"Cerberus? Crikey, now there's a beast and an 'alf! Not like they are in the myths, mind ye. Just massive hounds, only they got three heads. They love their music and barley cake. Give 'em either and they'll pop right off to sleep," Hagrid smiled, almost reminiscing.

Oh yeah, he definitely knew something about that Cerberus. Not only that, but he seemed to have a history with it, which was precisely the reason for his visit. Harry wouldn't be surprised if the bloody thing was Hagrid's to begin with, considering the way he had taken to Norbert. What's a Cerberus to _that_?

"Bet you'd like one, wouldn't you?" Ron piped up, in the middle of casting softening charms on the cake.

"What'd I need a Cerberus for?" he asked, idly scratching his beard.

"I dunno, they're still a kind of guard dog, aren't they?" Harry replied simply, hoping that he was hitting the right buttons to get the giant of a man to spill the beans, "And Hogwarts has lots of things that probably need guarding."

By the way Hagrid was nervously shifting, it seemed that he had. Beady eyes looked to and fro, as if trying to find a way out of their current conversation. He allowed a few moments to pass, for the silence to rise up and permeate the air and smother them. Then, like a wolf to the rabbit, Harry closed in on his prey.

"So what's its name?"

"Eh?" came Hagrid's reply to Harry's question.

"The Cerberus you have." the small Sorcerer elaborated slowly, as if talking to a child, "What is its name? I assume it has one, because Norbert was named right off the bat as soon as he was hatched."

Harry's softened rock cake laid on his plate, untouched. Green eyes bored into Hagrid, wide and inquisitive and just a smidgen calculating. A few seconds of silence passed as Hagrid looked to the three children, all of whom has serious looks on their faces. The groundskeeper let out a great sigh that made the hut rumble a bit (though that might have just been because Hagrid had chosen that exact moment to plop down onto a giant chair) and Harry knew that he had done it.

"Fluffy." was the tired answer, "'is name is Fluffy,"

Harry burst into raucous laughter. "Fluffy? You named the guard of hell's gates Fluffy?"

"I named a dragon 'Norbert', di'n I? I don't like them aggressive names," Hagrid smiled wistfully, clearly remembering his baby dragon.

"Speaking of Norbert, how'd you get a dragon egg? They're regulated, aren't they?"

"Won 'im off a bloke in the pub. Got a weird feelin' off of 'im, but you get that with most people in the Hog's Head.

But don't ask me what he's guarding, yeh hear? That's just between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."

Flamel? What did an alchemist have to do with something a Cerberus needed to guard? Sure, they're known to make powerful artifacts but what kind of magical item would be so importa-

 _No._

Harry stood up abruptly (which wasn't easy, considering his legs had been dangling a few feet in the air due to the sheer size of Hagrid's chairs, he ended up standing on top of the large wooden seat), a grim look on his face. His mind was a whirlwind, but he did recall thanking Hagrid for the tea and rock cakes, one of which he had in his hand as he hopped off the chair. The voices of Ron and Hermione filtered through his ears as they said goodbye to Hagrid as well, the giant man clearly confused by the actions of the three students.

The walk back to the castle was done so in silence. Once they were in the privacy of an empty corridor, however, Harry let his thoughts out.

"We have to find Dumbledore," he said, guiding them to the headmaster's office.

"Why? He won't tell us anything about Flamel if Hagrid won't," Hermione protested, slightly out of breath.

"It's the philosopher's stone!" Harry gasped, grabbing Ron and Hermione, who went from worried to surprised and confused in an instant.

"The what?" Hermione asked, incredulous.

"The philosopher's stone? That's a bedtime story!" Ron protested.

"Nicholas Flamel is an alchemist," Harry told them, his eyes wide in a kind of frenzy, "the best alchemist. There was a book on alchemy in the sanctum library, and he was mentioned. I don't remember the specifics, but it definitely said something about the philosopher's stone. That's what Fluffy's guarding! It has to be."

"Okay," Hermione said slowly, thinking it over. "If it's being guarded, surely Dumbledore knows about it. Why do we need to tell him?"

"Surely Dumbledore knows about what?" a clipped voice said from behind them.

"Professor McGonnagall? We need to speak to Professor Dumbledore." Harry burst out, eyes frenzied.

"Professor Dumbledore is away on urgent business at the ministry. I am your head of house, Mr Potter. Anything you have to say, you can say to me, I'm sure I can be of assistance." McGonagall said.

The colour drained from Harry's face. Hermione's slowly followed suit.

"Oh my god," he mumbled.

"Mr Potter?"

"I think the stone's going to be taken." he explained, hands shaking slightly.

"I beg your pardon?" McGonagall looked shocked.

"The philosopher's stone!" Hermione babbled, "If Headmaster Dumbledore's away, then the stone would be practically defenseless! Why would he be gone tonight of all times unless…"

Suddenly, a chill ran down Harry's spine as his mind connected the dots.

"It's going to be taken tonight."

* * *

"This is a bad idea." Hermione quietly grumbled under the Invisibility Cloak, "I know that no one believed us about the Stone being in danger, but what can we do against Snape if he wants to get it?"

"Snape?" Harry asked in confusion, "What does this have to do with Snape? Quirrell's the one trying to get the Stone."

" _Quirrell?!_ " was the unanimous gasp as they turned another corner, careful to keep their voice low so as to not attract attention to themselves.

The third floor corridor was just up ahead, and the trio had made it all the way here without too much in the way (though there was a brief moment where they thought that they were going to be discovered by Peeves, but the poltergeist had not seemed to notice them) of impedance.

"Yes, Quirrell." Harry sighed out exasperatedly, "He's already tried to kill me multiple times, and he's been extra twitchy today. Haven't you noticed?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, narrowed her eyes, then closed her mouth again. Ron's expression had turned calculating before nodding slowly. Neither was able to say anything more, as they had reached the door that contained Fluffy. A quick Alohomora later, and the trio was staring up at a snoozing three-headed dog.

Well, it _had_ been snoozing before they had entered. The door to the room opened inwards, which usually was a good thing as having a door that opens outward would run the risk of a drooling Cerberus romping around the castle. Unfortunately in the way of the inward swinging door had been a harp, which crashed to the ground once the door opened. Harry winced at the noise, before his stomach dropped as the rumble of the Cerberus grew.

"Oh no..." Harry moaned.

Hermione stifled a scream as the first head opened its eyes groggily.

"What do we do?" Ron asked, pressing himself up to the door and taking out his wand.

"Barley cake!" Harry burst out, making a second head wake up,"Hagrid said Barley cake puts them to sleep. That and… music! We need music!"

Harry slipped his sling ring on, hoping to grab the flute Hagrid gave him for christmas.

"LOOK OUT!" Ron yelled, tackling Harry to the ground just as Fluffy's rightmost head snapped at where he was not half a millisecond before.

Hermione began casting every spell she could think of. She levitated spells into its eyes, put blue fire on the floor, but nothing she did seemed to have any effect.

"Hermione, stop! You're making it angry!" Harry protested.

Hermione rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth before shouting at the young Sorcerer.

"Then play some bloody music so we can get out of here!"

Harry knew he was going to regret this. He took a deep breath in and clamped his eyes shut.

" _We're no strangers to love…"_

Fluffy suddenly stopped attacking, all 3 heads cocking to the side as they stared at the young sorcerer.

"Are you serious?!" Hermione groaned, shuffling towards him and Ron.

"I panicked!" He protested, yelping when Fluffy began barking again.

"Don't stop!" Ron shouted.

"Uhh, _you know the rules, and so do Iiiii!"_ Fluffy's eyelids drooped, " _A full commitment's what I'm thinkin' of…_ " Harry gestured wildly to the trapdoor that had become free from under the… admittedly kind of cute looking giant monster, " _You wouldn't get this from any other guy!"_

Ron pulled the trapdoor open, then gulped. "Geronimo, I suppose."

" _Iiii, just wanna tell you how I'm feeling…"_ Harry mimed diving, trying to break Hermione out of her Acrophobic stupor, " _Gotta make you understand,"_ she clamped her eyes shut and leapt down into the dark.

Harry was left alone with the cerberus, who was now dozing peacefully. He gave it a nice pet on the middle head, then jumped.

" _Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you! Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!"_

Harry stopped singing when he felt himself fall onto what felt like a sponge filled with maple syrup.

"Well, I reckon that went well enough!" he flashed Hermione a grin, who just sighed.

"Rick Astley? Out of all the millions of songs that exist, you sang _Rick Astley?_ " She groaned.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" He tried to give her a thumbs up, but encountered resistance.

"Umm, guys?" Ron whimpered, "Don't be alarmed, but I think this stuff's trying to eat us!"

Harry looked over at him, and was shocked to see that black tendrils of root and foliage had wrapped around his best friend.

"Ron!" he reached for Dragonfang, but his hand was pulled back by the plant.

Hermione had a look on her face that Harry and Ron knew all too well. She was thinking hard.

"Devil's snare! This is Devil's snare! We have to rela- no, that's not it, that's chrysanthemum constrictors, Umm, Devil's snare, Devil's snare, it loves the damp and dark…"

"Fire! Need… Fire!" Harry had the displeasure of trying to speak while devil's snare was wrapping around his throat.

"Well, yes, but there's no wood!"

"Wood? _Wood?!_ ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?!" Ron yelled, before being pulled down so only his head was visible.

Hermione paused, turned red, then struggled to take out her wand, casting her penchant blue flames. The Devil's snare leapt away from them, and they dropped six feet to the hard, cold floor. Harry coughed harshly.

"Hermione, I love you to bits, but if my cause of death is 'Shrubbery', I am going to haunt you forever," Harry pulled off his torn and tattered robes, brushed off his tunic, and sighed.

"' _There's no wood_ '. Remind me never to ask you what your favourite colour is, you'd be weighing the options till the sun exploded," Ron smirked, clapping her on the back affectionately.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" she sniffed, rather proud of herself. "Besides, my favourite colour is Indigo,"

"If you two are done flirting, I think I've figured out the next thing," Harry smirked as the two of them blushed, "Those are all keys, flying up there. See how they shine? They're either keys with wings, or Hummingbirds made of glass, and I don't see how that would help defend immortality in a bottle."

Ron stroked his chin, staring at the keys critically.

"How are we going to get them?" He looked over to Hermione, who was standing next to a few brooms.

"These could help, but I'd, um, I'd rather…" she looked nervous.

"It'll be alright, Hermione, it's not that high up. Besides, we have to stop Snape!"

Meanwhile, Harry was performing an intricate hand movement, creating a large ball that trapped all the keys.

"Got them," he said simply, plucking out an old key that had a broken wing, "It's probably this one. Looks like it's been squished by an evil hand."

He tossed it to Hermione, who tried it. The door swung open, creaking slightly as it did. It revealed a giant Wizarding chess board, each piece towering over the children, stone cold and majestic. After a few seconds of taking in the sight, Harry and Hermione slowly turned to Ron, who looked as if Christmas had come twice.

"MY TIME HAS COME!" was the redhead's excited shout as he gleefully surveyed the gargantuan board, "We have to play to get across! Harry, you be the Bishop! Hermione, you take Rook!"

As the two friends quickly took their places (the pieces being replaced smoothly walking off the board to the area near the door with the winged keys), Harry turned around.

"What are you going to be, Ron?"

"Knight!" the redhead replied with a grin, getting up upon the black stone horse that the other knight had vacated. "Okay, let's see who's losing today," he cracked his knuckles and grinned.

Ron, who had challenged even Dumbledore and come out on top in the last year, got mate in 7 moves, only losing a bishop and 2 pawns.

"Well, that was fun. Wish it was more of a challenge, though," Ron frowned.

"Really? You would have liked to risk getting stabbed by a giant sword wielded by an unreasonably angry chess piece?" Harry smirked, hi-fiving Ron. "Bloody great game, mate. That's twice you saved our necks tonight,"

"Yes, well done, Ron," Hermione smiled at him. "Now, let's see what's next," She pushed the door open, revealing a huge, hulking troll, motionless on the floor. Harry instinctively whipped Dragonfang in front of him, in sync with Ron and Hermione raising their wands. His heart beat at a hundred miles an hour, blood pumping in his ears. He heard Ron's deep intakes of breath next to him, and Hermione's shuffles on his other side. "I think… I think Sn- whoever it is… already beat it,"

They nodded in unison, and headed for the next room.

* * *

"A riddle?" Harry exclaimed, disbelieving that anyone would be this stupid.

"Well, yes, most wizards don't have an ounce of logic in them, no offense Ron," Hermione explained.

"None taken until then!" he crossed his arms.

"Yeah, but a riddle? Really? 1, if its a teacher, they're probably smart enough to figure it out, and 2, WHY A RIDDLE?!" Harry was still wrapping his mind around the stupidity of the situation.

"Well it could be You-Know-Who," Ron piped up.

"Who?"

"You-Know-Who,"

"Who's Who? Doctor Who?"

"No! You-Know-Who!"

"I clearly don't,"

"He who must not be named?"

"Well how do I know who he is if he's not named?"

"No! You-know-who! The Dark Lord!"

"Darth Vader?"

"Who?"

"That's what I want to know!"

"BOYS!" Hermione screeched, causing the two of them to cover their ears. "I am trying to THINK!" she returned to her 'I am thinking hard about something but I don't have my books' look.

"I mean V-vol… y'know?" Ron whispered.

"Oh! Voldemort!" Ron flinched, and Hermione glared. "Sorry. What about him?"

"Well, my dad always said that there's almost nothing that could stop him if he wanted something. Only Dumbledore could beat him. Maybe these were just meant to stall until Dumbledore found out. The only thing he's afraid of is Dumbledore. And Death," he explained, his face contorted in a mixture of fear and admiration.

"Well, yeah, anyone with 4th grade education in french could tell you that,"

"Huh?"

"'Voldemort', don't, translates roughly to 'flight from death'," Harry snickered, Ron quickly following.

"Really? Flight from death? That's like if I called myself 'spider man'!" he and Ron laughed, thinking of dumb names for each other.

"The stab runner!"

"Hermione whisperer!"

"Snape man!"

"Dementor dude!"

"I'VE GOT IT!" Hermione shouted in rejoice.

"Really?" the two boys said in unison.

"Yes, really! This potion here lets us through that fire back there, and this one lets us through that one at the front," she peered into this second bottle, looking somewhat disheartened. "It looks like there's only enough for one of us, though…"

Harry took a deep breath in. He knew what had to be done, he just wished he didn't have to. "Alright, give me that one," he winced as the two of them began to protest. "Look, we can't all go through. Whoever it is, they'll probably try and kill us. With my sorcery, I at least stand a chance. You two need to find Dumbledore as quickly as you can, and get him down here. With a healthy dose of luck, I should still be alive when he turns up," he unsheathed Dragonfang, set his jaw, grit his teeth, and took the potion. "And hey, if its Voldemort, maybe he'll be scared of me. He couldn't kill me as a baby, right?"

Ron stepped up to his best friend, and pulled him into a hug. "You come back, mate. If you die in there, I swear I'm gonna kill you," Harry could feel the emotion in Ron's voice.

"I will, mate. I promise," Harry felt Ron let go, only to be crushed by an even tighter hug from Hermione.

"You're a great wizard, Harry," she mumbled.

"No I'm not! Green bloody sparks, remember?" he chuckled, patting her on the back.

"There's a big difference between being good and being great,"

"Either way, you're better than I am," he retorted.

"Books? Cleverness? I hid in a toilet while you killed a troll!" she argued, finally letting go.

Harry brushed off his tunic, wiped his slightly wet eyes, and drank the potion. He ignored the sudden chill he felt, and smiled at his friends. "See you on the other side," he croaked, and stepped through the flames. Everything went dark.

* * *

"I knew it!" Harry yelled, before he could stop himself.

A surprised Professor Quirrell spun around, waving his wand as he did so. Magical light arced from the tip and Harry was suddenly wrapped in coils of what looked like silver. He landed on the ground from the force of the spell with a huff. Briefly he tugged at the bonds, but the silver (no, it's too light to be silver…) coils were as strong as ever.

"Don't bother trying to escape, Potter!" sneered the man, and Harry flinched at the revulsion with which Quirrell spat his name out, "That metal is nigh unbreakable. I found it in Africa on my travels. It took a while before I could learn to summon it, but-"

"Yeah, honestly, I don't really care." Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes, "I'm just here to stop you from getting the stone."

A flash of annoyance crossed the Professor's face at being interrupted, a hint of rage simmering beneath his eyes before something shifted as if he had a sudden thought.

"Ah yes, I thought as much." Quirrell said with a smirk, "A simple child such as you would obviously not see the value in eternal life."

"I see the value in a finite life," Harry retorted, his mind thinking of ways to get out of this mess, "But let's not get into a metaphysical debate on the reason we're here-" he gasped as the coils tightened around him, forcing the air out of his lungs.

"You would do well to remember your place, Potter. I will deal with you in a moment," Quirrell sneered out before turning to face the mirror again.

"Like-gah! Like you've been trying to all year?" Harry gasped out, fighting the constriction as best he could.

Quirrell turned back, an eyebrow raised. "So you knew? I thought you may have suspected Snape,"

Harry snorted, or at least tried to.

"Friends… thought… Snape… I… thought… you."

"Hmm, impressive, I suppose. Regardless, I have more improtant thigns to consider," he turned back to… the mirror of Erised? "This mirror is intriguing. I see myself with the stone in my hand, yet I cannot reach it…" the man spoke in reverence, stroking the glass with careful fingers, as if trying to coax it.

Harry snickered, loving to see Quirrell struggle with the mirror, then smiled wistfully as his vision refocused, returning him to his paradise.

"All I desire is the stone, but it's just out of reach. I cannot, I will not fail my master!"

" _Use the boy!"_ a strange, raspy voice hissed, and something triggered in Harry's mind.

He remembered screaming, disgusting high pitched laughter, and a green flash of light. Harry tensed, and slipped Dragonfang into his tunic sleeve.

"Potter!" Quirrell snapped, and his bonds opened, flinging him to the floor, right in front of the mirror, "Look in the mirror, what do you see?"

Harry gazed into his perfect world, and smiled. His mother smiled back. His father flipped over her back, stunning another faceless villain. Stephen and Wong conjured Sling portals, the enemy attacks redirecting back to their originators. He blinked, his eyes beginning to sting, and smiled wider as he saw Ron and Hermione flinging curses and hexes at their enemies by his side.

"I see my family, and myself, fighting an army of monsters." Harry whispered, just loud enough for them to hear.

Dumbledore was right. It felt wrong to share something so immensely personal. The reflection in the glass was for him and him alone to cherish in the idle moments of his thoughts. It's not like Quirrell would understand or care anyways.

" _He liessss!"_ the odd voice hissed.

"Alright, alright, not actual monsters, I was being metaphorical, okay?" Harry snapped out, the retort more out of habit than anything else.

Harry would've rolled his eyes, but was too engrossed in his dream, his Tantalus fruit, his unreachable star, to look away for even a moment. His mother's smile made his heart warm as she ducked, letting him take down the next faceless enemy. His father had a cocky smirk as the two of them tag-teamed the horde with their magic, tao mandala and wand spells creating a beautiful shower of multicolored sparks.

"Do you see anything else?" Quirrell hissed as his wand dug into Harry's neck.

Harry gulped, and looked for more minor details. His scar was gone, he had a glowing gold and green eye hanging from his neck, and there was a red stone sticking out of his pocket.

Wait... what?

"I, uh, don't have my scar, I guess?"

"Anything else?" Harry's hand slid into his pocket, half-expecting the stone to be there. When his hand remained empty, he rolled his eyes.

"Uhh, not really, no,"

" _Let me speak to him!_ " the voice hissed again.

After some protest, Quirrell began to unwrap his turban and turned around. The grey, sneering face of Lord Voldemort sat on the back of his teacher's head. Harry vomited at the sight.

"My goodness, thank you for the kind welcome, Harry," Voldemort sneered out as he rolled his eyes before launching into his devious villain monologue, "Yes, it is I, Lord Voldemort. Do you see what you have reduced me to, boy? A bodiless wraith, confined to this host. But this will be so no longer once I have the Stone. I know that you've seen something in there, now _give it to me!_ "

Harry could not react fast enough, and Quirrell's wand returned to its place on the young Sorcerer's neck. Now that he knew that he was against the bastard that killed his parents, sorcery was even more out of the question. What if it led Voldemort to Kamar Taj? To Stephen? While dealing with the likes of Mordo, would they be able to fend him off?

Once again Harry was in front of the Mirror of Desire, wide eyes watching his beautiful dream play out before him. What was some ruddy stone compared to that? What was immortality? And yet, he knew that at some point the two faced (literally) wizard holding him at wandpoint was going to figure out how to get the stone out of the mirror. This couldn't happen. It would jeopardize everything Harry already had and loved.

"Well, Harry?" the raspy voice of Quirrell's head parasite hissed out, "Look into the mirror and reveal its secrets. Give me the Stone and I will be sure to award you your heart's greatest desire."

The lights of sorcery and spellfire flickered across the glass, reflected in almost watering green eyes. The people in the image smiled at him, proud, determined, loving, loyal. They danced and spun and fought as a single unit, the amalgam of sorcery and Wizarding magic. His scarless reflection looked overjoyed, content, happy beyond compare. Voldemort's words echoed in his mind.

 _Heart's greatest desire…_

It was already in front of him. Made impossible by the very man who spoke those words.

Something cracked in Harry's mind. What had once been a trancelike euphoria had suddenly become an overwhelming sea of rage and anger. His fists balled up as he stared into the mirror. Defiance and pain was clear on his face, though it couldn't be seen by the wizard behind him, who saw whatever warped dream he had in mind. His eyes were wide, tears falling from his face because there was only one way to end this, to make sure this man couldn't take any more from him.

And it was by destroying the one way Voldemort could get to the Stone.

His mother then turned to him in the reflection, her red hair flying in the wind and her green eyes (his eyes) boring into his soul. His father did the same, then the reflections of Stephen, of Wong, of Ron and Hermione. Their eyes were all on him as they fought together. Harry's own reflection, however, wore a similar expression to what Harry himself had (though the other Harry lacked the anger, the sorrow), staring down an enemy from afar. Both of their fists raised, a true mirror image of each other. Lily Potter gave a small, sad smile, and a soft nod.

"I'm sorry, Mum." Harry whispered to the beautiful reflection, tears streaming down his face. He flicked his wrist, returning his trusty relic to his hand.

Voldemort and Quirrell heard those words, but this time it was they who moved too slowly. By the time they registered enough information to move, Dragonfang had already collided with the mirror's surface.

" _NO!_ " they screamed in unison.

The blast that followed knocked both of them off their feet as shards large and small embedded themselves into the walls. Some of the shards had cut into his skin, but it appeared that Quirrell had been the least lucky, blood pouring out from what was obviously a nicked artery, his wand on the other end of the room. Harry watched from his crumpled state as the man who had tried to kill him bled to death in front of him, unable to move from the gruesome sight. Something mistlike rose from Quirrell's still form, a smoke with hateful red eyes. It passed through Harry, screaming of his vengeance and his anger of losing the Philosopher's Stone, sending a shudder through his body as the wraith's malicious energy pulsed within him for a moment and draining what little was left of his own energy.

Tired green eyes watched it flee the scene before taking note of the amount of damage in the room. Quirrell was laying in a large red puddle, surrounded by shards of various sized glass. Groaning, Harry turned to regard the shattered remains of his beautiful dream. There was a shard close to him that was around the size of his hand, laying there like he was, broken and still. A surge of emotion overcame him as he stared at the shard, willing himself to gather some more energy… just enough to…

A quaking hand reached out toward the shard, grasping it carefully as Harry brought it back to him. One sharp side nicked a bit of his finger, but it wasn't a deep enough wound to distract the young Sorcerer. Light flickered from within the shard, and curiously he bought it to his face (which was somehow even more exhausting than just picking it up), peering into it.

There, on the other side of the glass, were his parents along with his Sorcerer guardians and his friends, all fighting invisible enemies from the shadows of the room. This time there was no Harry in the reflection, as they all turned to regard _him_ with their expressions of joy and love and pride. Tears poured from his face again, but this time it was in relief and elation. His beautiful dream had not been broken, no. They had just come closer to him, his Tantalus fruit closer to his reach. Careful hands pocketed the shard, his desire to keep this piece of heaven safe overriding the need to peer into it any longer.

Good thing, too, because the last remnants of his energy was spent and Harry could only lie there as the ground reverberated with the pounding of footsteps. As his eyes closed, he saw a blurry figure pick him up.

"What… took you… so…"

* * *

 **So… what do you guys think? I for one am really happy with how this went down. I just thought that since Harry is powered up in some respects, these trials would be easier for the team**

 **And really? A riddle?**

 **Well, I have a riddle for you: What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?**

 **Whoever has my favourite/ the right answer, gets screamed about in the next chapter.**

 **I'd just like to say thank you all for your kind and critical reviews. I appreciate them all. To the people who send me challenges and suggestions for fics, thanks for thinking that I'd be good enough to do them, but I'm only going to focus on Master Potter for now. I barely have enough time to write this one, hence why Oni has had her fingerprints all over this for the last few updates.**

 **The ones I've been sent so far look great, and I think that you guys should have a crack at writing them, but I'm not a fan of the universes they're set in, sorry.**

 **Please forgive my attempts at humour, I'm trying to teach myself how to be funny for my other projects.**

 **Well, that's all for now. Year 1 concludes in the next chapter, and from there we can start with the next arc;** _ **Summer in New York**_ **! Fitting, since I may be moving to the concrete jungle next year! Bye y'all!**


	22. New School: 15

**Last chapter of the arc, please read the Author's note at the end. I know last time I said that it was about something horrific, but this time I swear its positive.**

 **Also I'm not apologising for Rick Rolling all of you. And I am not saying that it will never happen again. Because it may.**

Focus… 

Breathe… 

Look within… 

Calm your mind… 

Calm your soul…

" _Verdimillious!_ " Harry cried, and gasped as he saw the faintest of green sparks, falling limply from the tip of his wand. He calmed his breathing, it wouldn't do anyone any good to start over-reacting. " _Verdimillious!_ " he said again. This time, the ensuing spark was bigger and faster, reaching halfway to the end of his bed in its downward arc. He could feel his heartbeat racing at a million miles an hour, the blood pumping through his head like a never-ending drumbeat. He focused, calmed his mind, delved deep within his soul, his very essence. Inhale. Hold. Hold. Hold.

" _Verdimillious!_ " he cried, a third and final time. A green ball of light, about the size of a bludger, shot across the room at staggering speeds, creating a small explosion when it came into contact with the stone brick of the infirmary wall. "YES!" He punched the air a dozen times. He'd finally cracked it! Oh, the next time he saw Ollivander he was going to hug the old bat so tight his lungs popped out!

"What on Earth are you doing, Mr Potter?" Madam Pomfrey strode in, a very displeased look on her face. She snatched his wand away from him before he could say a word.

"I'm just practicing! I've finally got the hang of it, I cast _verdimillious_! Besides, nobody's hurt!" Harry retorted, folding his arms.

At that exact moment, a fifth year Ravenclaw moaned in pain. "My arm… my arm!"

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes, waving her own wand over Harry. "In any case, you seem to be healing up nicely. If the rumours are true, you must be incredibly tough to survive what you did,"

"Honestly, I've got no clue what happened or how I'm still kicking. It's probably better to just thank my lucky stars that I am," Harry snickered, taking a bite out of his half-eaten chocolate frog.

"A wise outlook on life, Harry," a sagely voice said from the door. Professor Dumbledore strolled in, humming a happy tune. "May we have a little privacy, Madam Pomfrey?" she nodded curtly as he plonked down on the bed next to Harry's.

"So…" Harry said, twiddling his thumbs.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, gazing over at Harry's assorted 'fan-mail'. "I expect you have some questions, yes?"

"I'm a kid. Having questions is kind of what we're for," Harry grinned, tossing an every-flavoured bean into his mouth and cringing. "Eugh, no. Kale. Disgusting,"

"Where would you like to begin?" Dumbledore asked, taking a bean for himself at Harry's consent. "Hmm, pepperoni pizza,"

"Who knows? About what happened?" Harry shifted awkwardly.

"Oh, the whole school, of course. You know how secrets love to be spread," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Great. Just what I need. More fame," he rolled his eyes and popped another bean into his mouth. "Ooh, coffee," he shifted again, his thumb brushing against the shard of mirror he was now calling his own. "Did… did I do the right thing? By smashing the mirror?"

Dumbledore's eyes shined even brighter. "My dear boy, you could not have been more right. I think that you made what is quite possibly the most difficult choice anyone has ever had to make. To have their paradise before their eyes and say 'no'. I could not do what you did, no. My heart is too easily tempted. If it were not for you finding the mirror that night, I fear I may have forgotten myself for a very long time," Harry listened intently. "I am sorry that it was you who did what eventually would have had to be done. I won't ask what you saw, but -,"

"My parents," Harry mumbled. "I saw my parents. And Stephen, Wong, Hamir, Lao, all my friends and family, fighting together," He felt a pang in his stomach. It would never get easier, revealing such deep desires, even to someone he trusted as much as Dumbledore. "Voldemort made me tell him. I figure, if he knows, you might as well know, too,"

Dumbledore looked wistful, as if he saw something in Harry's eyes. He cleared his throat and smiled again. "Noble. I shouldn't have expected any less. Do you have any other questions?"

Harry didn't need to think about this one. "Why does Voldemort want me dead?"

The headmaster sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Alas, this is something I cannot reveal, at least, not now,"

Harry was well and truly gobsmacked. "Why? If someone's trying to kill me, then I reckon it's pretty important to know why,"

"I was thinking the exact same thing," said a familiar voice. Harry and Dumbledore turned, to see Stephen striding towards them, a disgusted look on his face.

"Stephen?" Harry hopped out of bed, hugging his guardian tight. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to find a reason why I should let you stay here, and I thought I'd come right for the head," he glared at Dumbledore.

"Mr Strange," Dumbledore began kindly.

"Doctor," Stephen spat, cutting him off. "And if this is an infirmary then I have far more of a reason to be here than you,"

"Stephen, please, don't," Harry looked up at him with wide eyes. The sorcerer supreme sighed and crouched down to his ward's level.

"I'm sorry, kid, but I'm stepping in here. Lie down," he instructed, and Harry hopped back up onto the bed, allowing Stephen to inspect him. "Definite signs of exhaustion, a few cuts and burns, some trauma, especially around the cranial area, but… how long ago did it happen?"

"About four days ago, apparently," Harry supplied, giggling as Stephen began prodding his sides. "Hey, that tickles!"

"So either this wasn't as bad as I'd expected, or you're healing faster than usual. Either way, all signs point to healthy recovery by the end of the week, thank God," Stephen rubbed his brow. "What did I tell you about staying safe?"

"Come on, a homicidal maniac wanted immortality, and nobody here listens to me! What else was I supposed to do?" he protested, wincing as he moved his arm a little too much.

"If I may," Dumbledore interjected, walking over to the two of them.

"You may not," Stephen growled through gritted teeth. "Harry is my kid, but more important than that right now, he is my patient. So unless you're family or his attorney, get the hell out," Harry was gobsmacked. He'd never heard Stephen talk to anyone that way, not even Mordo!

"I am Harry's headmaster. While he is in school I am his legal guardian, therefore-,"

"Therefore nothing! You waived that right when you let him go up against a goddamn Cerberus!" Stephen was now yelling, glaring at Dumbledore's still kindly face. A face that seemed to drop with that last accusation.

"I let him to no such thing. I would never risk the life of one of my own students,"

"So you just thought 'Oh, you know what'd be a good idea, letting someone use a school filled with curious kids as protection for an ancient and powerful relic. Maybe I'll throw in some deadly traps as well! I'm sure the kids would be completely fine!'"

"I warned all the students to stay away from the third floor corridor on fear of-,"

"You warned them? _Warned them_? Great job that warning did, when _my kid_ is lying in a hospital bed after going up against a maniac who wants to kill him, and on top of all that, you don't even have the decency to _tell him why_!" the two men were now an inch apart, both sporting looks of fury and indignation.

"You do not understand. Everything I've done has been to protect Harry! I set up protections for him when Voldemort was looking for his parents, I entrusted him with the Dursleys, I had a deadly weapon confiscated, I have watched over his quidditch matches to ensure he doesn't get hurt, and you call me indecent?!" Harry had never seen Dumbledore so furious. "Who do you think you are?"

Stephen's fist clenched, and Harry could see a droplet of blood falling from his guardian's hand. This would not end well, he could feel it. "I'm the guy who saved Harry from those malicious abusive bastards. I'm the guy who gave him a place to live and study. I'm the guy who taught him how to defend himself so he wouldn't get killed. I'm the guy who nearly died fighting a dragon to make sure he'd be safe. And I'm the guy who-," Stephen's tirade stopped as he saw Dumbledore's face contort from fury to appalled shock.

"Abusive? Malicious? It can't be…" he whispered.

Harry decided to make himself known at this time. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. "The Dursleys were awful people. I slept in a cupboard under the stairs. I was deprived of food on an almost daily basis. I was doing hard labour that you'd barely expect an adult to do, let alone a six year old kid. For the longest time I had cuts, bruises and scars all over me from when my cousin and his friends would go 'Harry Hunting'," Harry felt tears welling up as he remembered those days, when any small hope he had was snuffed out by screams and running. He commanded himself to stay calm.

"No…" Dumbledore collapsed into a chair, visibly shaking and turning paler by the second.

"You said you were protecting Harry? You threw him into the lions' den, not realising they'd try to eat him. I don't know if you're a monster, a moron, or both," Stephen felt the urge to spit on the floor, but held back.

"I didn't… I wouldn't…" for the first time in a long time, Dumbledore was at a loss for words. "I wanted you to have a normal life. Away from prying eyes who idolised you for what you'd done. I had no idea that they-,"

"Did you once check in on him? Did you once go to him to see if he was being fed, cared for, treated like a human being?"

"I thought I could… I thought that, since her sister…" the headmaster cradled his head in his hands, and Harry saw a single tear fall through the cracks in his fingers. Harry and Stephen shared a look, shocked by this turn of events. He heard his headmaster mutter things, like 'all my fault', and 'done it all over again'. What did he mean, 'done it all over again'? Why had this hit him so hard, when he barely knew Harry?

"Professor?" Harry placed his hand on the headmaster's shoulder, seemingly waking him from his stupor.

"I'm sorry Harry. It would seem that I have fallen into the same traps as I did in my youth. You are right, I owe you an explanation,"

Stephen sat down next to Harry, eyes steely, yet slightly warmer than they had been moments before. "Why does this Voldemort want to kill Harry?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I had hoped to keep this from you until there was no other choice, to give you some semblance of a normal childhood. Alas, I see my foolishness," he closed his eyes. "There was a prophecy that foretold the end of the war. _'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'_

* * *

Dumbledore's explanation was long and heartbreaking. He spoke of the most wonderful, terrible, awe-inspiring things. Harry heard tales of his parents and their friends, the trouble his dad got up to, the amazing things his mum did, and how they died at the hands of Voldemort.

"That is all I know on the matter," he said, finally.

"So… I have to kill him?" Harry asked, still slightly confused.

"As far as I can tell, it is closer to you being the only one with the power to. As I said, your mother's love protected you that night, and has ever since. I believe that, since Voldemort knows now of love, due to the circumstances of his birth, such beautiful, pure protection weakens him," the headmaster explained solemly.

"Either that or I'm really damn lucky," he grinned.

"Understatement of the century," Stephen muttered. "Aren't Chimeras meant to be almost unbeatable?"

"Ah, yes, the Chimera. I don't believe it was real," Dumbledore's eyes had regained their trademark twinkle. "I think it was merely a totem that professor Quirrell brought to life via some very complex transfiguration,"

Harry folded his arms, mock-sulking. "Take away my accomplishments, why don't you?"

Stephen just sighed, rubbing his temples. "So, if… if I took Harry away, hid him in our monastery as far from Voldemort as possible-,"

"Then the Wizarding World would be plunged into a bloody and brutal war that would end with the destruction of non-magical Britain," Dumbledore said solemnly.

Harry groaned. "Fantastic. And I can barely make green sparks,"

"Fine," Stephen set his jaw, looking determined. He turned to Dumbledore. "Harry has to fight Voldemort. It's bound to happen. So you train him. Make him a master of the magical arts, make sure that there's nothing he can't do, got that?"

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, his eyes twinkling. "I do. When the time comes, I promise you Harry will win the day," the two men shook hands, first adversaries, now united under a common goal. Stephen gave Harry a thumbs up, and left the hospital wing.

Dumbledore smiled down on Harry, a kind of sad, knowing smile. "Harry, I cannot begin to stress how sorry I am for what you have gone through. It was never my intention, I just wanted to keep you safe,"

"It's okay, sir, really," Harry protested. He meant it. None of that mattered now, it was in the past.

"No, it isn't. Everything you've gone through is my fault. How can I redeem myself in your eyes?" Dumbledore seemed uncomfortable, like he wasn't used to apologising.

Harry thought back to his mirror paradise, his thumb tracing the edge of his shard. He thought of how well they all worked together in the dream. Smiling, he met Dumbledore's gaze. "Trust me. Trust me like you'd trust an adult. I'm not stupid just because I'm young professor, and I think I've proven that sometimes a child can be right when an adult is wrong.

The headmaster's eyes twinkled brighter than ever before, brimming with pride. "Again and again, you surprise me with your wisdom, Harry. Thank you," he patted Harry's shoulder, and left him to his own devices.

* * *

The next morning, Harry felt as though he'd forgotten something, something incredibly important. He racked his brain, but for the life of him couldn't figure out what it was. He cursed the cheering of the students watching the quidditch match for derailing his train of thought. What could it be? What had he missed? Again, he forgot what he was thinking when he heard the bloody quidditch fans cheering their heads off. The quidditch fans…

Oh no.

He leapt out of bed, ignoring the shooting pain in his leg, and limp-ran out of the hospital wing, paying no mind to Madam Pomfrey's attempts to call him back. He ran to the broom cupboard, grabbed his trusty Nimbus, conjured his Gryffindor team robes around him and shot into the air. He winced as his legs stung, but ignored it, not letting himself skip out on the team.

Gryffindor were already 20 down. The entire team seemed demoralised, their chances of winning having been shot down. Harry sped through them, literally flying circles around Ravenclaw and distracting them from their play. Angelina intercepted a sloppy pass and knocked it on to Katie, who handed it to Alicia in a risky cross. Alicia did a double corkscrew and shot the Quaffle neatly through the right hoop. She sped up to Harry and lightly cuffed him on the shoulder. "You selfish bugger! Get yourself banged up right before the last game of the season!"

"I was saving the world, thank you!" Harry retorted with a grin, High fiving the twins.

"We've got a bone to pick with you too, Harry," George smirked.

"Yeah, since when does our little Ron have a backbone?" Fred asked.

"Maybe since he wrestled me out of the way of a 3 headed dog?" Harry laughed, shooting off to follow a glint of gold. The wind rushed through his hair, blasting his face, and making him feel alive. God he loved flying.

"Hey, Potter!" he heard from beside him. He saw the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang, keeping level with him. "What are you doing here? You're injured, aren't you?"

"Well yeah, but Quidditch is more important," he winked, hitting the metaphorical gas and shooting ahead a few feet. He continued his circle of the field, looking for any more glints of gold. During his G-force inducing circuit around the pitch, Angelina and Katie each scored another goal for Gryffindor, putting the score at 30-20. Harry cheered and whooped for each, but stopped in the middle of his second celebration, due to hearing a loud crack in his wrist. The clamping hold his teeth had on his bottom lip was enough to draw blood. He held back screams of agony, his grip on his broom becoming far looser. And then, of course, since he can't just have things go his way, he saw Cho speeding after the snitch, a mere 2 yards away from the tiny orb. He hoped against hope that his improved speed and aerodynamics could give him the edge. He inched closer and closer, the head of his broom brushing the sides of Cho's broom's bristles. He bit his lip tighter, pushing his broom for everything it was worth, letting go of it entirely to reach for the snitch with his good hand… but it was too late. Cho raised the snitch above her head, proudly displaying it for the world to see. She hovered next to Harry, moving to shake his hand, but pulled back when she saw the gruesome angle his wrist had contorted into.

"Hehe… whoops," he grinned, then slowly flew towards the hospital wing, nursing his mangled hand.

* * *

One week and several high-pitched lectures from Madam Pomfrey later, Harry was finally ready to leave the hospital wing for good. He was dreading getting his exam results, only barely figuring out wand magic after taking the practicals, but apparently Dumbledore had decided to give him, Ron and Hermione passes on everything for saving the school. Harry smirked to Ron.

"We should risk our lives more often," he joked, and Hermione shot milk out of her nose.

"We should not! Aside from the fact that we almost died, we're incredibly lucky that they didn't decide to expel us!" she lightly smacked them with a rolled-up copy of the prophet.

"Come on, 'Mione, he was joking!" Ron protested, then turned to Harry with a slightly worried look on his face. "You were joking, right?"

"…I mean…" he scratched his chin, eliciting groans from his friends.

"If I could have your attention, please," Professor Dumbledore called from centre stage. The room fell instantly silent. "The school year is over, and summer is upon us! But before all that, it is time for the final scores, and to reveal the winner of the house cup. In fourth place, with 332 points, is Gryffindor," there was polite clapping across the hall. "In third place, with 420 points, is Hufflepuff," more polite applause, "in second place, with 426 points, is Ravenclaw," louder applause erupted here, mostly from Slytherins, who, for all their faults, had a basic grasp of the process of elimination. "Which, of course, results in Slytherin in first place with 482 points. Well done Slytherin," a few placed groans could be heard around the great hall. "However, I do have a few last minute points to give out. First, to Mr Ronald Weasley. For skills in chess that are, quite frankly, terrifying, and the best played game that Hogwarts has ever seen, I award Gryffindor 50 points," Ron turned redder than his hair as the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers, whoops, and thunderous applause. "To Miss Hermione Granger, for wit, logic, and deductive reasoning that, between you and I, not even the Minister for Magic can boast, I award Gryffindor, 50 points," as the table erupted into cheers again, Hermione looked torn between curtseying and shrinking into her robes. "And finally, to Harry Potter. For not only quick thinking, for not only a rather impressive singing voice, for not only standing tall in the face of insurmountable odds, for not only making one of the most mature and sensible decisions any witch or wizard has made in decades, but for having the courage to stand up to those who would seek to help him, misguided though they were, I award Gryffindor one hundred points,"

Three out of four tables went wild. As the green banners above them all turned red and gold, almost everyone was cheering, whooping, dancing, chanting, some were even crying. This did not include Harry. Harry had crawled under the table with a chicken leg, and was quietly nibbling on it until everything quietened down.

* * *

"You've got to come round over the summer, Harry," Ron said, as they alighted the train at Kings Cross.

"Sounds good, mate, I'll see if I can get back. Send me a picture so I can sling in," Harry clapped Ron on the back, smiling at his best friend.

"Make sure you write, both of you," Hermione ordered, eliciting eye rolls from the two boys. "I'm serious! Ron, you can tell me all about how wizardkind use magic in everyday life, and Harry, you absolutely must show me more sorcery!"

Harry groaned. "Hermione, this is complicated stuff. Isn't magic enough for you?"

"Isn't sorcery enough for you?" she countered.

"… Touché," he grumbled. "Fine. I'll send you both a little," Harry scanned the crowd, looking for Stephen. He was surprised to find him awkwardly chatting with a middle-aged couple, who were suddenly bombarded by a hug from Hermione.

"Hi Stephen," Harry shook his guardian's hand, smiling. Stephen nodded at him.

"Hey, kid. You all better now?" Stephen raised an eyebrow, and harry just nodded.

"Ah, so this is Harry," the man Stephen was talking to shook his hand. "I'm Paul Granger, Hermione's Dad, and this is my lovely wife Jean," she smiled and waved politely. "I hope you're not being a bad influence on my daughter," he winked, and Hermione blushed.

"Daddy!" she protested.

"Oh, she's a bad influence on me, sir! All the homework I do now, it's terrifying!" Harry sniggered. "So, how do you know Stephen?"

"Oh, we don't, but we've read a few articles of his in various medical journals," Jean said. "We're both dentists, you see,"

"Oh yeah, Hermione said that around Christmas,"

Stephen tapped Harry on the shoulder. "We'd better get going, Harry. Don't wanna miss the flight,"

"Flight?"

"Well, yeah, you're immigrating to America, you've got to go through the checks," Stephen cuffed him on the shoulder. "Come on, I've already packed your stuff.

Harry sighed, looking again at Ron and Hermione. He ran over to them and gave them both a last quick hug. "Stay in touch. I'll owl you when I'm settled in. See you!" He jogged over to his guardian, not wanting to wait another second to get to New York.

* * *

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god," Harry gripped his armrests tightly, unbeknownst to him leaving dents in the metal.

"Don't you fly at school?" Stephen asked, confused by Harry's fear.

"Well, yeah, but I have control of the broom, there's a bunch of charms to keep it safe, and we don't go higher than, like, a hundred yards up. But right now I'm locked into a metal tube 5 miles above sea level that won't stop bouncing!" He bit the inside of his cheek as another wave of turbulence hit the plane. "A sling ring sure would be handy right about now," he muttered, closing his eyes and hoping for a relatively undisturbed sleep.

* * *

Five hours, a 30 page document and a bag check later, Stephen and Harry finally left JFK Airport, found an empty alleyway, and Slinged to The Sanctum Sanctorum. Harry quickly raced to his room, dropped his trunk, and gave Hedwig a handful of seeds, then raced out the front door. His mind was racing. He couldn't wait to see his new home. As he looked around and breathed in this new air, he smiled. Harry Potter had come to New York.

* * *

 **And Year 1 is finally complete! Thank you so much to everyone's astonishing support on this chapter, you have no idea how much it means. Actually, you do now, because I'm going to tell you. Over the summer, I got some really bad anxiety. I was overworked, underpaid, underappreciated, and I just felt down overall. Then I got around to updating this fic. And I posted a bunch of stuff on my YouTube channel, Kinnundo. The videos garnered a fair number of views for a channel of my size, a mere 53, but the support I got from you guys here on fanfiction really helped my mental state in a way I can't put into words. Reading all the kind words that you guys have to say about this dumb hobby of mine, that you think this is worthwhile in any way at all, it's probably what started me on the road to getting better. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. To each and every one of you who has favourited, followed, left a review, or even just silently read. Thank you.**

 **Anyway, on to brighter things.**

 **You guys seemed to like the riddle, and I got a lot of answers for it, almost all of which had a different spin on the solution. Y'all are smart! The first answer I received, which was also the one I had in mind, came from KaijuSentai, who quoted All-star Superman with the answer 'They Surrender'. Well done KaijuSentai, for watching the same thing I did for your answer. Of course, they weren't the only one to get that answer, but they were the first.**

 **Also a shoutout to APridefulSin for giving 5 really funny answers that y'all should check out in the reviews section, they're great!**

 **OK, so there's some guest reviews I've gotten that I've been meaning to answer for a while.**

 **To that guest who lists all of Harry's canon powers, thanks, but I got them the first time, ya didn't have to review that, like, six times XD. Harry in this won't be getting all of his canon powers, because I want to make him stronger in combat than in the more intelligence-based skills like herbology or Astronomy. Plus, if I gave him everything plus sorcery, he'd be a mary sue, and I hate mary sues. A lot.**

 **To Enku, thanks for the reviews, I have read Heroes Assemble, I love it, and I read it every week! As to other powers, see above.**

 **To Dreamweaker, thanks for the suggestion, but, as I said above, I'd rather keep Harry at around the same level as strange. Any stronger and he'd be a mary sue, and I hate mary sues. A lot.**

 **What else, what else? Oh! If anyone's going to MCM London this weekend, try and find me, I'm going alone and don't want to be alone all day, and y'all are cool! I'm going in costume because of course I am, so on Friday look out for Ron Swanson, on Saturday look for Ben from Crash Zoom, and on Sunday look for Cedric Diggory but dead (I call him Deadric).**

 **That's all, folks! See ya in the next arc, Summer in New York!**


	23. Summer in New York: 1

New York was by far the single most amazing place he'd ever seen. The landmarks, the food, the skyscrapers, oh, it was incredible! He strolled through Central Park, hands in his pockets, marvelling at the beauty of it all. Stephen had given him free reign to walk around the city for a couple of days, knowing full well that he could a, find his way home with a flick of his wrist, and b, look after himself if needs be. He got himself a chilli dog and sat on a park bench, listening to a busker play 'Imagine', and watched the world go by.

A young boy, about his age, came and sat down next to him. A quick glance at his white cane told Harry volumes.

"Want a fry?" Harry asked, placing the paper cup in the boy's lap.

"Thanks," he took one, and his lip twitched. "You got this from Julia, right?" he smiled.

"Yeah, I think so, they're really good," Harry took another bite of his chilli dog and flipped a quarter into the busker's guitar case.

"You're british, right? You here on vacation?"

"No, I just moved here last week. My guardian had to come here for work,"

"Well, welcome to New York. I'm Matt," he held his hand out, and Harry shook it.

"I'm Harry. Nice to meet you, Matt," he grinned, glad to have made a friend. "You have a phone?"

Matt smirked. "Yeah, it's old, but it works," the two of them exchanged numbers and chatted for another half hour, until the sun fell behind the skyscrapers, and the sky turned amber.

* * *

"And six of us ended up giving in the same essay, with just the intro changed!" Matt laughed, causing Harry to facepalm, giggling.

"Are you serious? Who would be so stupid to think that anyone would be fooled by changing the name and a few words? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in," he snickered.

"Well, it's getting late. Are you going to be okay getting back to your place?" he helped Matt to his feet, a little worried for his safety.

"I'll be fine. My eyes don't work, but the rest of me is better than ever. See you round, Harry,"

"Nice to meet you, man," Harry shook his new friend's hand, then headed for a nearby alleyway. He was about to open a sling portal, when he heard something that made his blood curdle. Crying, yelling, the cock of a gun. He stuck to the shadows, creeping towards the sound. He stopped behind a bin, peering over to have his fears confirmed.

"Last chance, bitch! Wallet and phone or I swear to god I'll shoot!" Harry's clenched fist drew blood from his palm. Without saying a word, he leapt over the bin and formed a whip that coiled around the bastard's pistol, wrenching it from his grip. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the gun flying into the mugger's chin, fracturing his jaw and knocking him out. He landed near the woman, still curled up in a ball.

"Are… are you okay?" he edged towards her. Noticing her flinch, he cast some light from his hand. "It's okay, you're alright,"

"Th… thank you…," she sobbed into her sleeve, still shaking.

"Don't worry about it. I'm going to tie this guy up, do you think you can call the police?" at her nod, he smiled, summoning coils of rope to bind the mugger.

"Who… who are you?" she asked, still shaking a little.

"I'm-," Harry was interrupted by his phone starting to ring. "I am very, very late," he shouted for a passing beat cop to come over, then ran off into the night, Slinging back to the Sanctum.

* * *

He'd definitely been slacking off. He could feel it in his movements, he was slower, more rigid. It was all too easy for him to be tagged by Stephen's disks. Another one flew into his sternum, knocking the wind from his lungs. "Christ!" he gasped. "That was harsh!"

Stephen merely folded his arms. "You're going to be fighting an all-powerful wizard nazi. You've gotta improve,"

He pulled himself to his feet. "I know that, but I am still 12, remember?"

"Exactly. This guy could jump out at any time, and you have to be ready,"

Harry sighed. "I guess. That doesn't mean this doesn't hurt though," he conjured a glass of water and leaned on a pillar. What was holding him back? He was completely focused! He'd done all his homework from Hogwarts, he'd been given a study break from Stephen, and he didn't have any letters to reply to from Ron and Hermione, even though they said they'd write to hi-oh. Right. "Stephen?"

"What's up, kid?" his guardian sounded distracted, like he was concentrating on something else, something… hidden.

"Ron and Hermione said they'd write to me, but they still haven't. It's been nearly 3 weeks now! Did I do something wrong?" he took another sip.

"I mean, they're in England and you're in America. Maybe it takes a while for the letters to come?" Stephen supplied, calling a diet coke for himself.

"That can't be it. Even when I was using Hedwig to write you, it took a week, tops,"

"They're probably busy with homework or chores or something," he responded.

"I got all my homework done within the first two days, and if I can clean a whole floor of the sanctum top to bottom in an hour, they can wash dishes and still have time to write to their friend," he folded his arms, the childishness of his actions not lost on him. He just didn't care.

"OK, first of all, they don't have the ability to enter an alternate plane of existence where time moves slower but you can still interact with objects on this plane," Stephen rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but stopped, sitting rigid with his eyes glued to a corner of the room.

"Yeah, I guess. It just sucks, is all. Should I sling to them?"

"Huh? Oh, no, don't worry about it. They'll get around to it, don't worry kid," he hopped back onto his feet and smirked. "For now, it's time round three began,"

Harry grinned. "Ding ding," He leapt over a mandala, his worries all but replaced by adrenaline.

* * *

He hated dusting. Dusting was the worst thing about his entire life. Bar none. Literally everything had dust on it, and there was never enough tissue to get rid of it all without needing to go back. By Myrlin's knuckles he was going to create a spell that got rid of all dust everywhere. He sneezed for the fifth time that hour, some of the godforsaken dust particles floating around the room. As they settled, he could have sworn that some of them fell on what appeared to be an invisible upturned urn or something. Either that or a little person with ridiculously long and pointy ears. A moment later, the dust looked as though it had fallen to the floor perfectly normally. He ignored this minor annoyance, instead choosing to focus on the major annoyance, the fact that his friends had apparently abandoned him. One week on, and still no reply from Ron or Hermione. He was _This_ close to Slinging to them and blowing dust in their faces. Bloody dust. Oh well, at least he and Matt had hit it off. They spoke almost every day about something or another. Of course, he was always vague enough when it came to magic that Matt was neither suspicious nor confused. He did not want to open that particular can of worms.

"So you wanna be a lawyer?"

"Yeah. My Dad never got justice, so I wanna help out the little guy, y'know?"

Harry had to admire his new friend's altruism. "Neat. 'Matt Murdock, attorney at law'. Kind of sounds like a knockoff Ally Mcbeal," he snickered.

"Hilarious. What about you? What do you wanna do when you're older?" Matt asked.

"No idea. I'll probably just go with whatever life throws at me. If destiny wants me to become a sports star, or a doctor, or whatever, then let it be," damn. He was hoping against hope that Matt wouldn't pry any further than that. Making friends with muggles was way too much hard work! Especially ones that wanted to be lawyers!

"The Lord works in mysterious ways,"

"Yeah. The Lord, Thor, Destiny, Galactus, the flying spaghetti monster. Whoever decided that I should have the most scarred childhood in western civilisation,"

"You wanna talk scarred? Until 3 years ago, I could see. Besides, I think that's more Loki's thing, isn't it?"

"Fair enough. Tell you what, if I ever meet Loki, I'll be sure to knock him senseless for you. Sound good?"

Matt laughed. "Haha, sure, why not? Oh, Sorry, I've gotta go. Speak to you tomorrow, Harry,"

"Bye, Matt," he hung up and slid his phone back under his desk. Strangely enough, he heard what sounded like a thud, as if the phone had hit something, or someone… hiding where the phone now lay. He quietly summoned Dragonfang, and peered under the table. As expected, he found nothing. Myrlin, he was tired. It was nearly 10!

* * *

Another week passed, and Harry was getting restless now. After being pinned by Stephen for the fourth time in a row, he punched a wall. "Damnit!"

Stephen sighed. "Harry, you're 12 and inexperienced. I'm a grown adult and the Sorcerer Supreme, a fully fledged Master of the Mystic Arts. You're being too hard on yourself,"

Harry simply sneered. "Oh, this coming from the guy who's been pushing me way further than necessary out of paranoia that I'm going to be killed at any moment?"

Stephen rolled his eyes. "OK, what's this actually about?"

He sighed, dropping to the floor in exasperation. "Ron and Hermione still haven't written me! It's been over a month now! I've sent them dozens of letters, and still nothing! I've got half a mind to Sling over to them right now!"

"Uh huh, sure," he nodded, waving for his cloak to wrap around him. He appeared to be preoccupied with something in the corner. Harry huffed, a little incensed that his guardian seemed to not care.

"Alright, fine, I guess it doesn't matter then," He rolled his eyes. Stephen put a finger to his lips and signalled to a parchment that looked like it had been hit by something. Understanding immediately, he cast a Mandala on one hand, wielding Dragonfang in another.

" _On the count of three,"_ Stephen mouthed. " _One, two, three!"_

The two sorcerers leapt around the parchment. Stephen wrapped the spy in whips, and Harry held Dragonfang to its chest. As it struggled, Harry instantly recognised what it was. The oversized head and eyes, long, pointed ears and potato sack for clothes gave it away. "You're a house-elf?" he asked, incredulously.

The elf's eyes widened further. "Harry Potter knows that Dobby is a House-Elf! Dobby is truly honoured to be recognised by the great Harry Potter!"

Stephen just looked confused. He released 'Dobby', as he was apparently called, from his bonds, remaining in a battle-ready stance. "What the hell is a House-Elf?" he asked, having a good idea as to what the answer was going to be.

"A magical creature that is bonded to its owner. They literally live to serve, and do whatever they're told," he explained, returning Dragonfang to a pocket dimension and putting his hands in his pockets.

Stephen's face coiled in revulsion. "So it's a slave?"

Dobby perked up at this. "Yes sir, but Dobby is very happy to work, sir. Dobby much enjoys working, sir,"

Stephen opened his mouth, but Harry waved him back. "There's no point arguing with them, Stephen. There's no convincing them. More importantly, what are you doing here, Dobby? And how did you find me?"

"Dobby found Harry Potter by using magic, sir. And Dobby came to warn Harry Potter! Warn him that he must not return to Hogwarts this year!"

"Why not?" he dreaded the answer.

"Terrible things are to happen at Hogwarts this year! Dobby knows, Dobby has seen, and Harry Potter is in grave danger!"

As if on cue, an explosion shook the sanctum. Cold, feminine laughter filled the room, and Stephen's blood turned to ice. "Both of you, get out of here, now," he conjured a dozen mandalas, which began orbiting around him. The air around Stephen sparked as he tapped into more and more power.

"What's going -," Harry began, feeling more than a little scared.

"I said get out of here! Now!" Stephen snapped. A green light shone from Stephen's torso, and Harry knew he meant business. He wouldn't open the eye of Agamotto for nothing. Harry grabbed Dobby and sprinted out of the training hall. Before he opened his sling portal, he heard 3 words that filled him with an ungodly terror. "Show yourself, Morgan!"

 **Oooooooooooooooooohhhh BUDDY it's good to be back! I tell you, coursework this year has been a BITCH! I have almost no time to do anything! seriously, I've only had time to put together a few Harry Potter sketches on my YouTube channel, Kinnundo. Time management is difficult as balls when you're in University, damn!**

 **Anyways, here's a riddle for you. "You cannot see me, I have no face, not voice, no weight, yet I kill kings and paupers alike, and tear down mountains. What am I?"**

 **As usual, if you get it, you'll be screamed about in the next chapter.**

 **Thanks as always to all you lovely reviews, they're kind and, in some cases, helpful! Big shoutout to Enku, who I think may be a Legilimens, because there's a part of their review that I had planned on being part of this since the very beginning. Though, I highly doubt it will be in the way you imagined.**

 **To Sonic Nerd, I say this: That fic sounds awesome, and you should totally write it! I, however, know nothing about Sonic Lore, so couldn't do it justice. Plus, it never really appealed to me, probably because the only Sonic game I ever played was Sonic Unleashed.**

 **To Odin's eye, I say this: Again, you should write this fic. It sounds like a really cool idea! However, as with Sonic Nerd's suggestion, I know nothing about Little Witch Academia. All I know is that there is a show called Little Witch Academia.**

 **To All of my readers, I ask this: Have y'all been watching Doctor Who? What do you think of the new series? Do you love Graham as much as I do? Do you think Tosin Cole needs an acting coach so he can learn how to actually emote? lemme know, I'm curious!**

 **Anyways, see y'all next time, Subscribe to Kinnundo, always wear your seatbelt and enjoy life while you have it! BYE!**


	24. Summer in New York: 2

Morgan. Morgan Le Fay. Morgana. The deadliest witch to have ever lived. Equalling even Myrlin in her power. Harry ran, and ran, and ran, as far away from the sanctum as he could, the little house elf Dobby keeping pace. "Look, Dobby, I appreciate what you're doing here, but right now I'm in far more danger than I could ever be at Hogwarts,"

"What does Harry Potter mean, sir?" Dobby's ears twitched in confusion.

"That woman who was laughing in there? That was Morgana,"

The poor house elf screamed, curling into a ball. "Morgana! Harry Potter must run away! Be safe!"

"That's what I'm doing, Dobby. Even I'm not stupid enough to take on Morgana!" Harry slumped against a wall, looking right at Dobby. "Now, why should I not go to Hogwarts?"

Dobby shivered, and seemed to be fighting the urge to punch himself. "Dobby thinks that whatever is coming, it is maybe not as dangerous as Morgana. Perhaps Harry Potter should… NO! BAD DOBBY!" and he began bashing his head against a wall, much to the irritation of Harry.

"Dobby, come on, please!" He held the house elf back from the wall.

"No, too dangerous… Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts school this year. Harry Potter must find somewhere safe, and hide!"

Harry rubbed his eyes. Admirable as it was, Dobby's begging was really having no effect on me. "Look, Dobby, at Hogwarts I'm always safe. Dumbledore's at Hogwarts, and he can even ward off Voldemort!"

Dobby screamed once more. "Harry Potter speaks the Dark Lord's name! Harry Potter is truly brave and noble!"

 _Oh, for the love of…_ "Dobby, please, hear me. I'm going to Hogwarts in September, I'm going to tell Dumbledore about what you said to me, and I'm going to be safe. Dumbledore and my friends will protect me!"

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?"

"That doesn't mean any-what. You know about that." It wasn't a question. Harry's eyes were blazing with rage.

Dobby reached behind his back, taking out a dozen letters and packages, bound in string. "Dobby thought that if Harry Potter-"

"Give those to me. NOW." Harry held out his hand, energy sparking and creating arcs of lightning around him. Dobby dropped the letters and shrunk away. Taking a deep breath, Harry calmed down, picking the letters up and banishing them, for now. "Thank you. Anyway, as I was saying. I will be fine,"

Dobby sniffled, then nodded briskly. "Dobby has no trouble believing that," The little elf smiled slightly, then waved. "Thank you, Harry Potter. Dobby is very pleased to have met you. Dobby must return to master now. Goodbye, Harry Potter!" Harry waved, then winced as he heard a loud _POP_ , and Dobby was gone. He instantly went into fight mode, dropping into a battle-ready stance and looking around. He cast a sling portal and leapt through, sprinting to Wong as quickly as he could.

* * *

"Wong! Wong! Help!"

The librarian came running, already wielding the Wand of Watoomb. "I heard. Morgan le Fay has returned,"  
"Why?"

Wong held up an ancient black leatherbound book. Harry could feel power emanating from its pages. "She seeks this. The Darkhold. The darkest and most dangerous tome that we guard. If she finds it, this entire planet will be under her thrall," Wong sighed, pressing the book into Harry's hands, much to the young sorcerer's shock. "Do NOT open this. You must hide it. Do not stop moving,"

"What? Why? What about you? Why not leave it here?" he fumbled with the heavy book, settling with putting it under his arm.

"You aren't as powerful as we are. Morgan will have trouble locating you. If we do not succeed, she will come here next. We cannot afford to let her find this book, or you. It will be up to you to hide this from her," Wong put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and smiled. "Good luck, Harry. Now, run!" Wong leapt through a Sling portal, instantly firing a powerful blast from the wand in his hands. As the portal closed, Harry caught a glimpse of this new threat. She was, to be frank, stunningly beautiful. Long black hair that reached the small of her back, whipping around her as energy crackled around her hands. She was tall, adorned in a green, skintight bodysuit and cape. Her eyes betrayed her, however. He could see the malice, the hatred, the pure evil of her soul. Fear overwhelmed him, and his instincts kicked in, fighting for dominance. His head was screaming for him to run, run as fast as he could and not look back. Though, his heart was begging him to help his masters, his friends, his family. He shook his head, conjured straps on the Darkhold, slung it over his back, and ran.

* * *

He tossed and turned. His mind was on fire, though he could not wake. This nightmare was different. He couldn't see Voldemort anywhere. But he heard something. Morgana's laugh, Stephen and Wong's battlecries, and two voices, whispering, compelling him to open the book, to use it.

 _Use the might of the Darkhold. Wield the all-powerful magic. With it, you can defeat Morgan Le Fay. Do it. It is the only way…_

" _NO!"_ he screamed into his mind. He could feel the darkness. He wouldn't, he couldn't.

 _They are dying at her hand. You know they cannot defeat her. But you can. Use the Darkhold. Save them. Your inaction ensures the triumph of Morgana!_

" _SHUT UP NO! NO! NOOOOOOOO!"_

He awoke, cold sweat shimmering in the light of the dawn. Dragonfang was humming in his mind. "I'm fine," he assured the sword. "Just a nightmare. I think," He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked around. He'd found a little cave. Modest, but he was used to that. He snapped his fingers, a small fire hovering by his side, illuminating his new home. He knew enough enchantments to get by, transforming a rock into a bed, and digging enough of a hole to not be bothered by certain… smells… ugh. Reaching underneath his Gi shirt, he found his newest possession, his shard of the mirror of Erised. Gazing into it, he smiled. His vision never changed anymore. It was always the same, his family, fighting side by side, gazing at him with proud and loving eyes. A tear fell down his cheek, as Harry sat there, motionless.

His growling stomach woke him from his stupor. Gazing out of the cave entrance, he groaned. He'd gone and done it again! He'd looked into the bloody shard for so long he'd lost 4 hours! He ran out of the cave and towards the town.

* * *

He wondered if Stephen was safe, or even alive. The bitter taste of coffee didn't distract him from his fear, though it did shut up the voices in his head, that were still imploring him to open the book. He tucked a few notes under his cup, then ran back into isolation. If Morgana did find him, better for it to be away from civilisation. He'd die, but nobody else would.

And then he had a heart attack. There, in front of him, Morgana appeared, apparently smiling at him. Harry looked directly into her cold eyes, stoic.

"So, you're the one they entrusted with the Darkhold," she took a step forward, and Harry drew Dragonfang, raising it in defence. "Don't worry, I'm not actually here. I'm merely projecting a vision of myself to the Darkhold's location. Though, I did not expect to see a child. Respectfully, I expected more,"

Harry circled around her, not lowering his weapon. "I get that a lot. So. Morgana, right? I'd say pleased to meet you, but I'm guessing you killed my masters, so-"

The witch laughed, and Harry's heart pounded against his ribcage. "Oh, you poor thing, you must have been terrified! Don't worry, I didn't kill them! What a waste that would be! They were powerful magicians, I'll admit, but what would killing them solve? No, once you give me the Darkhold I will simply use them to harness the energy of the dimensions and wield the dark magic inside its pages,"

Harry rolled his eyes. "And that's supposed to convince me to join your side?"

She laughed once again, shrilly. "Oh, goodness, no! See, I don't need you. You're far too weak for me to care about you. No, I'm only telling you what will happen after I track you down, kill you, and take the Darkhold,"

"But you don't know where I am," he countered.

"I'll find out. I am the most powerful witch of all time, child," she bent over until she was almost eye level with him. "I can do anything I please. And once my machinations are achieved, once I have everything I could ever wish for, then I'll kill your friends. And everyone else who stands in my way."

Harry's eyes blazed once more. "OK, first of all, I know you come from a time when people got married at, like, 10 years old, but could you please stand up straight? I'm very uncomfortable. Second, I have a friend who's a better witch than you will ever be. Third, I'm going to find you, I'm going to free Stephen and Wong, and then I'm going to beat you to a bloody pulp so hard that not even an infinity stone will be able to fix you," he strode through the mirage, which dissipated instantly.

* * *

Back in the sanctum, Morgana chuckled. "Wow. Children are still so easily manipulated. I didn't actually think that would work. Now your precious pupil will come to me,"

Beside her, Stephen struggled against his binds. "You won't win. There's no way you'll find him,"

Morgana cackled, striking Stephen across the face. "Do you think me a fool, Strange? Do you think me so incompetent that I cannot think of multiple plans? You see, I do not need to find him. His own people can do that for me,"

Stephen's heart was beating at a thousand miles per hour. "What do you mean?"

"Don't try to hide it, Strange. All I have to do is provoke him enough," she leaned into his ear and whispered. "I saw his wand,"

* * *

His aim was true, and the conjured spear struck the ibex in the heart, at least making it painless. He sent one more aimed at the skull, ending its suffering there and then. As he carried the carcass back to his bivouac, he took out his shard, gazing into it to pass the time. His heart fluttered as he saw his mother, his beautiful, confident, amazing Mum, roll across his brilliant, handsome, powerful dad's back to avoid a blast, then smiled as the two of them combined their might into a single spell. He laughed as Wong easily dispatched a dozen foes at once, grinned as Stephen avoided hundreds of attacks, countering by splitting himself into a hundred copies, and destroying them with a flick of his 200 wrists. A new addition took his fancy, an adult Ron and Hermione bickering away, firing curses at their enemies while seemingly in the middle of an argument. He laughed, at least some part of this was real.

He was getting really, really bored. Hiking across the planet, living off the fat of the land, it got old very quickly. Occasionally he'd run into a couple of campers, have a nice chat, maybe sing some campfire songs, but he knew better than to stick around for too long. He missed Stephen. He missed Wong. He missed Hamir, and Lao, hell, he missed Mordo for pete's sake! He wanted to see Hedwig. He wanted to write to Ron and Hermione. But he couldn't. He couldn't trust anybody around the Darkhold. That was what Wong said. He had to listen, and keep it safe and hidden. The thought of Hogwarts had crossed his mind, but that was too risky. Anyone could find it, and then all hell would break loose. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, and as he lay back, he felt his wand rolling across the back of his neck.

…

…

He was in Asia, after all. Surely, they wouldn't be able to find him here? Surely he could practice. After all, there was nobody around who could see him. He'd be fine, right?

…

He raised his wand, waved it, and breathed, " _Lumos_ ,"

His camp was illuminated by a faint white glow. He grinned, he was getting better at this! His smile faltered when he saw a brown owl carrying a letter. "Oh, great," He facepalmed as the letter was dropped on his lap. " _Dear Mr Potter… underage magic… statute of secrecy… first warning… Ministry of Magic,"_ He leered at the owl, which ruffled its feathers condescendingly and flew away. "For gods sake. How can they expect you to get better if you can't even bloody practice?" He scrunched the letter into a ball and threw it out of his camp, where it promptly bounced off of nothing. Then, nothing became something. And something was a 10 foot tall grey monster with massive fists, spines down its back, and an angry look on its face. "OK, pretty sure that's an overreaction," he gulped. The ogre roared, charging at him with fury in its eyes. It swung a big meaty fist, which Harry ducked under, sliding across the floor. He leapt over another swipe, grabbed Dragonfang from its dimension, and swung it down. The ogre jumped back, roaring even louder, probably out of pain, given the large gash that now adorned its forearm. Harry took this time to form a Sling Portal. As he was about to let go, the beast headbutted him in the side, sending him careening into a tree. He groaned, pulling himself up, and conjured half a dozen spheres, which orbited around him. He leapt up, aimed a kick at its head, and gestured with his left hand. One of the balls shot into the creature's chest, exploding on impact. His kick struck true, and he vaulted of the injured monster, sprinting away as he tried forming his portal again. He could feel its hulking steps shaking the ground as it chased him, he could hear it roaring as it drew ever closer. He gritted his teeth and leapt through the portal, landing on hard concrete, a chorus of taxi horns lifting his spirits. Spirits that were then immediately crushed when he failed to close his portal. He turned, and groaned. The monster was halfway through, and not giving up. He concentrated with all his might, but the blasted thing would just not close!

"Sod it," he rolled his eyes and ran, bounding over taxis and vans. As he turned a corner, he saw the ogre had pulled itself almost completely through. "Safe, safe, where's safe in this goddamn town?" He ran, and ran, and ran, as quickly as he could. And then, he crashed into somebody. A blind somebody. A familiar blind somebody.

"Christ! Are you okay?" Harry helped him to his feet, then groaned. "Oh, or the love of- Matt? Seriously? 7 million people in this city and you're who I run into?"

Matt grinned. "Nice to see you too, Harry,"

Harry winced when he heard the roar. It was through. "We have to go. Come on!" he grabbed Matt by the arm and sprinted. He was surprised that the boy could keep pace with him at all, given he couldn't see where they were going.

"What the hell is that thing?" Matt gasped, leaping over a bin bag and weaving through pedestrians like a trained acrobat.

"Long story. How the hell are you doing all that?" Harry asked, flipping over a crashed car. He slapped himself in shock when he saw Matt match his action perfectly.

The supposedly blind teen landed, grinned, and adjusted his glasses. "Long story,"

Harry rubbed his eyes, panting. "My life is so messed up,"

* * *

 **I enjoyed writing this. It was fun. A good chance to work on improving. Anyways, let's get on with it!**

 **Congrats to all of you who, apparently, watched or read the Hobbit, for getting the answer of 'Time'. I didn't realise that this riddle was in the Hobbit until the wonderful 'Lovelifeforever' (amazing name) pointed it out to me.**

 **To the person who said Dragonfang was a giant meh of uninspired cringe inducing mediocrity. Cringe? Sure. Mediocre? Maybe. But uninspired? Seriously? And then you list other pre-existing mythological swords that I could have used? Ah yes, using something that already exists and has an established backstory, rather than making something new in order to mix two worlds and reflect the main character better than just a metal stick with a famous name. How inspired. I would have answered this in a PM, but this just seems like something Cinemasins would say.**

 **Finally, I went to see Aquaman and Into the Spiderverse yesterday. They both good! Aquaman is the second best DCCU movie after Wonder Woman, and into the spider verse is the single best spider man movie ever made. Fight me. The animation and design are amazing, the characters are likeable and believable, the fight scenes are incredible, the soundtrack is brilliant, OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS MOVIE! It looks and feels like a comic book. Also Nicolas Cage is Spider-Noir, and I love Nicolas Cage. Did you know he named one of his kids Kal-El? This man is amazing.**

 **FINALLY FINALLY, A riddle for y'all at home! "In what month is the least food eaten?"**

 **Same rules as usual, and NO CHEATING!**

 **Anyways, thanks so much for reading, if you enjoyed, then please consider favouriting and following, and leave a review down below! See ya!**


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